


The Magnus Institute does Halloween

by ghostofnoodlewrap



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Asexual Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Canon Asexual Character, Cock Rings, Established Relationship, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Multi, Pegging, Season 1 polycule, Spanking, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:00:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26748454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostofnoodlewrap/pseuds/ghostofnoodlewrap
Summary: It is Halloween at the Magnus Institute. Certain members of the Archive team may enjoy this holiday more than others.But Halloween is a time of mischief and fun and all Institute staff are expected to join in the celebrations kindly organised by the colleagues connections team. No exceptions.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Sasha James/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker
Comments: 47
Kudos: 175





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In season 1, Martin lived in the Archives March-July, but let’s just pretend he was there in October too.
> 
> Pre-established Jon/Martin/Tim/Sasha.
> 
> CW:  
> -Martin is trans. He has had top surgery. The terms used for his genitals are dick/cock and cunt. He is not comfortable with vaginal penetration  
> -Jon is asexual and does not always feel comfortable engaging in sex or recieving sexual attention, however his comfort levels are flexible.  
> -Further content warnings may be applied to later chapters

Tim’s desk is pumpkin themed, or at least it will be once Martin’s done with it. On the other side of the room, Sasha’s is already done up as a little graveyard, complete with zombies and skeletons. Martin’s saved his own desk for last, but there’s several packets of fake spider web and about two dozen small plastic spiders he’s going to use on that.

It wouldn’t be fair to take up lots of his coworkers desk space with decorations (and he did ask if he could do it, even if there’s going to be a bit of a surprise tomorrow morning). That’s why there’s only a small cluster of miniature pumpkins on Tim’s desk, and all the rest of the decorations hang off the edge of it like bunting. There wasn’t really space on Sasha’s desk to do much, so hers is mostly a banner too.

Martin is halfway through sticking an orange and green fringe to Tim’s desk, but it’s just not taking the tape well, too plasticy and shiny. He had to give up on the bluetack though because it just wouldn’t stick at all. At least with copious application of the tape he’s getting somewhere. He notices the sound of the door opening behind him, and a few footsteps, but doesn’t think anything of them.

“What are you doing?” Jon says from somewhere behind him.

“Decorating for halloween.” Martin replies. It’s really quite obvious when you look, even if he hasn’t got the ‘happy halloween’ bunting up on the walls yet.

“It is October first!” Jon says.

“I know, I know, I’m a little late this year.” Martin admits. Normally he gets the halloween decorations up by mid-September at the latest.

“October first, a full month from halloween.” Jon rubs at his temples, his forehead going from faintly lined to creased.

“It stops Christmas from creeping any further forward.” Martin points out.

“It’s just so _American_.” Jon says with a twisted mouth and Martin can just imagine him eschewing halloween and only joining in with bonfire night celebrations like a good Englishman. Only one autumnal celebration needed.

“Did I mention it’s also my favourite holiday.” Martin says lightly. With a final piece of tape, he gets the fringe to stick without it sagging in the middle. “And both Tim and Sasha said they were fine with some decorations.”

Jon sighs. “Nothing that makes sound.” He says. “Or that’s motion activated. Or that’s too big. Or that’s an eyesore. Or any flashing lights.”

“Sure, sure!” Martin says. “Promise I’ll keep it bearable, even if it can’t be called exactly subtle.”

Jon rolls his eyes, but Martin knows it’s just a tease. They’re both smiling. “If it makes you happy.”

_That’s how I know you love me_. That’s what Martin wants to say there, but it’s too soon. Jon hasn’t said those three words to him yet. Or to Tim. Or to Sasha. Despite the fact the four of them have been together for several months now. All of them know it goes beyond a purely physical thing, but feelings haven’t exactly come up yet. Not verbally, at least.

Martin steps into Jon’s space, and Jon doesn’t step back. “Are you heading home now?” Martin asks. He lets one of his hands brush Jon’s until Jon just gives in and intertwines their fingers.

“Yes.” Jon replies. “Unless you don’t want to be alone down here?”

It’s been weeks since Martin started living here. It’s not that he’s afraid to go home, except he sort of is? Two weeks of being trapped alone in his flat, only after his escape he ended up trapped here instead (it’s not true - he’s been out of the Institute since, just never for long and never on his own). The first week after he came back, someone stayed with him every night, but he’s gotten used to being alone in the Archives at night by now. 

And it’s difficult to have another person down here. The cot can just about comfortably sleep one, but not two. Of course, there are other reasons Martin might want company, especially from one of his partners, but Jon is very often not down for the sort of stuff that Tim, Sasha and Martin are (which isn’t to say that he’s never down for it, or that he can’t happily join in as long as he stays fully clothed and no one tries to touch him, but one should never assume Jon’s up for sex).

Besides, there’s something useful Jon can do for Martin if he is going home.

“I’ll be fine.” Martin says. “But would you mind taking the sheets from the cot home to wash? They’re in the corner over there - I’ve just changed the bedding.”

Martin doesn’t mention quite what exactly he’s changed the sheets too. If Jon doesn’t approve of the decorations in here, then Martin should probably stay quiet about the new themed bedspread he’s put on the cot.

“Of course!” Jon says, but he doesn’t make any move to pick them up. He just keeps standing there, rubbing his thumb over the back of Martin’s hand and staring at Martin like he’s waiting for something.

Oh.

“You could kiss me goodnight before you went, too.” Martin says. “Y’know. If you wanted.”

“I-” It’s not as easy to see blush on Jon’s skin as it is on Martin’s freckled cheeks, but Martin’s positive it’s there.

Jon flounders for words for a couple more seconds before he gives up and just reaches up to kiss Martin. It’s just a sweet peck, or at least the first kiss is, but Martin hauls Jon back in for more when he pulls away.

Martin deepens the kiss, not to anything filthy, but to something slow and tender. There’s no tongue, but the gentle slide of Jon’s lips against his is nice, as is his little gasp into Martin’s mouth when Martin pulls Jon more firmly against him. Jon’s hands tangle into Martin’s hair, tug firmly enough for Martin to like it, but not enough for it to hurt, and Martin pulls away from Jon to groan.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” Martin asks. “The bed’s all made up with fresh sheets.”

“Very tempting,” Jon replies, “but I’m not that way inclined tonight. And if I don’t leave, then the old ones will never get put through the wash.”

“I am my own downfall.” Martin says, but he reluctantly lets Jon go.

Jon smiles up at him and this time his pretty face is definitely flushed. Finally, some work Martin can be proud of! He rocks slightly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“One more kiss for the road?” Jon asks.

And how can Martin do anything but oblige?

* * *

Tim and Sasha both enjoy their newly-decorated desks, but more than that, Martin thinks they enjoy how much their rampant enjoyment of halloween annoys Jon. Particularly when they ask what theme Jon’s desk is going to be (although Martin has no plans for that because he doesn’t want to end up in Jon’s bad books and Jon has made his disapproval of the idea very clear). Martin has caught the tail end of three rants Jon has made about the commercialisation of halloween and how it’s only been popularised in the UK because it makes so much money in the USA.

(And boy did he go red-faced when Sasha started to explain its origins as a Celtic holiday that began right here on the British Isles.) 

Despite Jon’s concerns, Martin hasn’t got to every nook and cranny of the Archives in his decorating fever - Jon’s office is untouched, although the one Tim, Sasha, and Martin share has been thoroughly spangled for halloween. There’s a few bits of bunting up in document storage too, and the little cot in there now has an orange bedspread with black bats printed on it.

“Nice sheets.” Tim says when he spots them - he’s pulling stuff, presumably whatever it is that Jon wants for tomorrow, while Martin is busy re-shelving the things their boss is finished with.

“Uh, thanks?” Martin says. “Thought it might liven things up in here.”

“Have you Christened them yet?” Tim asks.

“I’m sorry?”

“Have you, you know...” Tim makes a series of lewd gestures.

“I know what you mean!” Martin exclaims.

“It’s terribly bad luck if you don’t.” Tim says. He balances his half-full box carefully on a shelf and, once he’s determined that the box is precarious but stable, he walks over to Martin.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that.” Martin says.

“Sure you have.” Tim replies. 

Tim doesn’t have to pull hard to get Martin to relinquish his grip on the stack of document folders he’s holding. Once Tim has them, he sets them down on a shelf, just like he did with the box he’d been holding earlier.

“I’m really not sure…” Martin says, but he’s grinning. He can see the direction Tim is about to take this and it most likely leads to the bed on the other side of the room.

“Do you really want to risk it?” Tim asks. He takes Martin by the hand and starts walking him over to the cot. Martin does not resist.

“That horrible quartet, breaking mirrors, walking under ladders, opening umbrellas indoors, and not fucking posthaste in your new bedclothes.” Martin says.

“Right on, Marto.” Tim says, and he pushes Martin’s shoulders gently until he drops to sit on the edge of the cot.

It isn’t that comfortable, to be honest. There’s an uncushioned bar that runs around the very edge that digs into Martin’s thighs as he sits, and that only gets worse as Tim settles himself in Martin lap, although the warm weight of him sitting there more than makes up for it. Tim’s legs spread to either side of Martin’s hips as he presses himself up close, and Martin wraps his arms around Tim to steady the other man, because it would be oh so easy for him to tumble backwards.

Tim isn’t quite as tall as Martin, but arranged like this he does have to lean down to kiss his lover.

Martin meets him halfway. It’s a lot sweeter than their earlier banter might lead you to believe. Tim does sometimes go for filthy kisses filled with intent when he’s really desperate for it, but that usually requires a little something to loosen him up first. Instead, he kisses Martin softly, the curve of his smile apparent against Martin’s own lips.

It’s Martin who ends up deepening the kiss, sliding his tongue into Tim’s mouth at the same time he slides his hands up the back of Tim’s shirt. His hands aren’t cold, but Tim’s bare skin is hot beneath his hands. It isn’t long until he’s encouraged Tim’s shirt off entirely - a shame to break their kiss, but utterly worth it to drink in the sight of Tim’s muscular chest.

Tim makes to attack Martin’s neck and Martin groans when he kisses over some particularly sensitive spots. It’s a noise that Tim echoes when Martin rubs his fingers over Tim’s nipples.

“I think I can be convinced to Christen these sheets.” Martin says. He squeezes his thighs together, relishes in the little rush of pleasure that brings. It’s a pity that with Tim on his lap Martin’s pretty much unable to get anything to press between his legs like how he wants.

“You think?” Tim says, but Martin can already feel his cock hardening against his hip.

“I want you.” Martin whispers into Tim’s hair.

“Do you now?” Tim says. “You want me in your pumpkin spiced sheets?”

“Oh my God.” Martin says. He shoves at Tim in response to the terrible line. Not hard enough to actually dislodge Tim, but he slides off Martin’s lap anyway.

Tim doesn’t say sorry. Of course he doesn’t. He treats riling Martin up like this to be a prize.

“You love it.” Tim says. He places a finger under Martin’s chin and uses it to encourage Martin in and just like that they’re kissing again.

This time it is a filthy thing. Martin makes no complaints when Tim’s hands come to the front of his trousers and undo them, and he certainly does not complain when one of said hands slips inside to rub at him through his underwear. Or rather, to grind his packer up against his cock, because it’s just in the way of where Tim’s fingers need to be. Eventually, Tim dislodges the prosthetic enough that he can touch Martin directly.

Tim’s hand on his cock has just started to feel very nice, thank-you-very-much, and Martin is just reaching for Tim’s waistband to return the favour when the door opens. Both of them turn around to see Jon entering.

They’re no longer kissing, but Martin has a good idea that it’s obvious they were. They’re still sat on the bed and Tim’s shirtless with his hand still incriminatingly down the front of Martin’s trousers.

“May I remind you that you are on work time.” Jon says when he sees them. Martin is sure that Tim is pretty pleased with the way Jon’s ears go red.

Tim ostentatiously checks the watch on his free hand. “Only for another fifteen minutes.” Tim says. “C’mon, boss, we’ve worked late plenty of times. Are you telling me Marto doesn’t moan prettily enough to make you bunk off quarter of an hour early?”

Tim rubs against Martin’s cock again, a slow roll of his thumb against the hard bud of it, and Martin knows it’s just to make him moan. It works though. Very well, and he turns to bury his head in Tim’s neck as his cunt spasms.

Jon snorts and shakes his head. He picks up the list of documents he asked Tim to pull for him. “I suppose I can pull these myself if you insist on entertaining yourselves.”

That’s about as much approval they can hope for, at least for today. Sometimes Jon is interested in joining in when his partners have sex - in which ever configuration of Martin, Tim, and Sasha that may be - but even then he mostly doesn’t get naked or have much interest in his own satisfaction.

Still, it isn’t a ‘stop,’ and Tim certainly doesn’t take it as one, as he attaches his mouth to Martin’s neck and slips his hand beneath Martin’s underwear, edges underneath his packer. The feeling of skin-on-skin is electric, even if Tim skirts around touching his cock.

“Please.” Martin whispers, and Tim hums against his neck until Martin repeats himself louder. “Please!”

“Even when he begs so nicely, Jon?” Tim says.

“It might work a bit better on Sasha than me.” Jon says.

“D’ya know why you’re the boss, boss?” Tim asks. “It’s ‘cause you have all the best ideas. Hey, Sasha!” Tim yells.

Martin can hear her coming, can hear her grumble at being summoned so rudely, but he’s also very much distracted by the fact that Tim has finally deigned to actually touch his cock and now all Martin wants to do is to lie back and buck his hips up into Tim’s hand.

“Martin put new sheets on the cot, want to help us Christen ‘em?” Tim asks when Sasha appears.

“You’re also still on the clock for another ten minutes, and since those two got distracted, there’s still half a box of documents over there that need to be filed away.” Jon says before Sasha can answer. “I’m sure you can hold off for a few minutes, can’t you?”

She looks between the two of them on the bed and Jon on the other side of the thin room. It takes a couple of back and forth looks for Sasha to make up her mind, and Martin can tell that she’s tempted from the way her eyes linger, but she walks over to the box instead.

“Aw, come on Sash!” Tim says at the same time that Jon gives her a respectful nod.

“I’m sure I can get most of these done in ten minutes.” Sasha says. It’s a bit of a stretch - there’s a lot of files in that box. Martin wonders how long she’ll hold up.

“Do you think, Martin?” Tim says. He uses his free hand to push down Martin’s trousers as best as possible, but it doesn’t really work because he’s sitting. “Or would you rather she came over here? Maybe put her mouth on you?”

“Oh, God Tim, _please_!” Martin says. Tim’s hand skates lower and he coats his fingers with the slick dripping out of Martin. He doesn’t try to slip inside of Martin - he knows that’s not something Martin is comfortable with - but he doesn’t half spread that wetness throughout Martin’s slit.

“It’s not me you need to beg.” Tim points out.

“Sasha, please, we want you.” ‘I want you’ is true as well, but Martin is pretty sure the hard length he can feel under his palm isn’t just for him. “Join us and we can - _oh_. Oh God.”

He tries to be coherent, Martin really does, but Tim waits until he’s halfway through a sentence before he places his fingers on either side of Martin’s cock and starts jerking him off. He abandons his plans of begging Sasha to join them to relish instead in the pleasure Tim is bringing him.

Sasha doesn’t look unaffected though. She drops one of the folders and her hands are trembling as she reaches down to pick it up - both Martin and Tim (and even Jon) leer at the way her skirt pulls tight across her arse when she does.

But she turns back to the shelves and keeps putting the files away, but not before a quick glance at the clock. Martin watches her mouth ‘five minutes’ to herself.

Meanwhile, though, Martin is falling apart under the attention of Tim’s fingers. Tim has dragged Martin back onto his lap and has had to wrap his free arm around Martin’s waist to keep his hips still enough. It’s nice though, because in this position Martin can twist round and back and lean down to kiss Tim.

“I’m going to come.” Martin tells Tim when he gets to the point where he’s tight-wrought in anticipation.

“What do you say, Sash?” Tim asks. “Should I let him, or should I make him hold off until you cave and join us?”

“Oh God, please, _please_.” Martin says and he’s not even sure which one of them he’s begging, he just knows how close he is and the fact that if Tim stops touching him now, he isn’t going to come. And if he doesn’t get to come, he’s going to die.

Sasha shoves a file clumsily into the shelving unit. It’s apparent even through her skirt how she squeezes her thighs together. She sets the half-empty box down on the shelf. 

“It’s four fifty seven.” Jon tells her sternly. She takes another file out of the box.

Thankfully, Tim doesn’t seem to take this as ‘no, don’t let Martin come’ because after a brief tease, he goes straight back to jerking him off. Martin’s head snaps back and he whines, but then he’s coming and it feels so good he’s almost not sad about how awful and wet his underwear has just become.

When Martin opens his eyes again, he has three sets staring back at him. Must have put on a bit of a show then. They must have liked it. It sends a bit of a pang through him and he knows that he’s nowhere near done for the night.

“I can finish these.” Jon says to Sasha.

“But-”

“Go.” Jon tells her. “You’ve done very well and I can finish up.”

She’s smiling and that’s all Martin can process (his brain is still lagging behind after coming that hard) before she’s on them.

Sasha barrels into them hard enough that Martin slides off Tim’s knees and she drapes herself over both of their laps. There’s colour in her cheeks and a slightly desperate look in her eyes, but she’s also both warm and soft when Tim and Martin grab ahold of her and make sure she’s not going anywhere.

“Hello, darling.” Tim says.

“Hi,” she replies, “I think you need to apologise.” 

“What for?” Martin asks.

“Turning me on this much.”

Tim laughs and he slides his hand - the one which has fingers going tacky with Martin’s drying slick - over her lips. She takes it into her mouth eagerly, sucking it clean.

“I’m sure we can make it up to you.” Tim says.

Martin’s hand is perhaps a little more up Sasha’s skirt that it is on it, but she makes no complaint, reaching up to kiss Tim, all wet and noisy. Martin lets his hand slide up her thighs - she certainly does have nice legs - until he reaches the waistband of her tights and encourages it to roll down.

There’s twin thunks as Sasha kicks off both of her pumps, and Martin spots Jon jump at the noise. But it does mean Martin can pull her tights off now, and he does so with haste. He debates pulling her panties down now too, but it would be nice to see them on her first. He keeps his hand there though, up between her legs and stroking the soft skin of her inner thighs, not giving in to the temptation of touching her where she really wants to be touched even as she begins to wiggle more and more.

Tim breaks the kiss between him and Sasha, but she follows him, clearly eager for more. “Uh-uh.” Tim says. He’s made such a mess of Sasha’s hair that she just pulls the bobble out of it and puts it on her wrist. “Don’t you think Martin deserves a kiss too, after he came so prettily for you?”

Sasha twists to face Martin, which makes Tim fumble at undoing the last of the buttons on her blouse. Her bra isn’t one of the fancy lacy ones she sometimes wears when they plan something like this, but it will be off her soon enough, so it doesn’t really matter - Martin wants to get his hands on what’s under it and the soft rolls of her stomach.

“Don’t want to miss you out.” Sasha says as she shifts. Martin has to remove his hand from her thighs, which is sad, but he does get most of her into his arms which more than makes up for it. “Hi.”

“Hey there.” He says, and he leans down to kiss her hello too.

Sasha doesn’t let him go, and he kisses here deep enough that Martin thinks he can taste Tim, and below that the tang of his own slick, in her mouth. Tim busies himself with removing Sasha’s blouse entirely, and then, since he has a good view of the clasp, he undoes her bra and takes that off too. Or at least that’s what Martin thinks happens. It’s hard to tell with his eyes closed, but he can certainly feel Tim’s hands against his chest as he feels Sasha up.

He gets to confirm it when Sasha breaks the kiss to pull the clothes from Martin’s top half too, then all three of them are bare-chested and pressed together.

A three way kiss doesn’t really work, and they already know that, but that doesn’t stop them from trying. Martin slides his hand back up Sasha’s skirt, and finds one of Tim’s already up between her legs, panties already pushed to the side. He manages to push another finger into her alongside the two Tim already has in her cunt.

“Can you get her clit?” Tim asks. “My hand is cramping.”

Martin nods, his face resting somewhere on Tim’s neck. He twists his hand round so that his thumb replaces Tim’s. Working her over together like this, it doesn’t take long until she’s squealing and clenching around them as she comes.

Martin feels Jon’s gaze on the three of them and he looks up to see Jon smiling. He’s still holding the box, only now it has all the files he wants for tomorrow in it. It looks like the work’s done, but he’s still clinging on to it. Jon doesn’t need the excuse. He knows he’s welcome to do far more than just watch if he wants to.

“Why,” Martin asks, “are we still all wearing clothes?”

Wearing has to be in the loosest sense of the word. Martin’s trousers are undone, as are Tim’s - Sasha’s in the midst of pulling his cock out through the front. And Sasha’s skirt is now hiked so high it’s doing a pretty good impression of a belt.

Tim grunts at that. Sasha tries to pull his trousers off, but it doesn’t really work with him sat down. “Okay.” She says. “Everyone up, it’s naked time.”

Martin stands and strips himself with brutal efficiency, leaves his clothes in a pile on the floor with his packer on top to protect it from the floor, although it already looks like it’s going to need washing before he wears it again. Luckily, Martin’s shoes are tied loose enough that he can just slip them off, because there’s no way Tim would not tease if he bent over to get to his laces now. However, the direction of Tim’s taunts seems to be facing Jon right now.

“Too scared to strip down to your skivvies like the rest of us, boss?” Tim asks.

Jon’s still standing there, just watching. It’s very clear now that he has no work related reason to still be in here. He’s been still for the last few minutes, just observing while Tim and Martin took Sasha apart with their fingers.

“Don’t be mean, Tim.” Sasha swats at him playfully. “Jon can just watch if he wants to. No pressure, hon.” She shoots over to him.

Jon does just watch reasonably often. Sometimes he joins in, but even then he stays mostly clothed and is more interested in touching than being touched himself. Tim knows better than to press him. Should don, anyway.

Martin smiles at him and Jon smiles back, albeit a little awkwardly. Across the room, Jon sits down on one of the stepping stools they sometimes use to reach high shelves.

The cot is small, beyond cramped with two bodies and the thought of trying to fit all three of them on it is laughable. “How is this going to work?” Martin asks. The three of them are just stood there stripped skin-bare and staring down at the bed like it’s a puzzle they can crack if they just think it over for long enough.

“If you sit at one end, I can get on my hands and knees and eat you out while Tim does me from behind.” Sasha says.

“Hey, how come you get to be in the middle?” Tim says. “What if I want to eat Martin out while you do me from behind?”

“Well, I didn’t think to pack my strap for work this morning, dear,” Sasha replies, “so I don’t have anything to do you from behind _with _.”__

__Martin stays quiet. While it might be precisely the time, he doesn’t really want to admit that his strap (and a half empty bottle of lube) is tucked underneath the cot. Not that Sasha wouldn’t be able to use it - the style is mostly the same as hers, just without the internal toy for the wearer, and at one point Tim even bought them matching dildos as a joke. But it’s a little embarrassing that when he rushed to pack getting out of his nightmare of a flat, one of the things he ended up bringing - one of his priorities - was a strap-on._ _

__“Fine, fine!” Time concedes. “That work for you, Marto?”_ _

__“Uh, yeah?” Martin replies._ _

__“Hop to it, then!” Tim says and he slaps both of them on the arse simultaneously._ _

__Martin lets out a noise that is pathetically like a squeal. Sasha just grumbles at Tim, but both she and Martin take their places on the bed. There’s not really room for Martin to properly lie down, but he manages to slouch, shoulders propped up on the wall and legs spread either side of Sasha’s shoulders._ _

__Sasha’s thumbs rub over the inside of Martin’s thighs. It makes them tingle and he knows she’s looking at the way he gets wetter as she touches him. He can hear the squelching sounds coming from the other end of her, but from the way Tim is moving it looks like he’s got fingers rather than his cock in her. More stretching, possibly then. Tim isn’t huge, but he’s pretty far from tiny too._ _

__“Hey Tim, can you reach to kiss me from over there?” Martin asks._ _

__Martin has to lean forward some, but when Tim steps in close to Sasha and leans down over her back, he can indeed kiss Martin. It’s a fairly awkward thing, all stretches and crooked necks, and Martin ends up breaking the kiss to gasp against Tim’s mouth when Sasha’s fingers graze over his cock._ _

__“What are you waiting for Sasha?” Tim says in response. “Put your mouth on him and get Marto here to make some real noise.”_ _

__She does just that, licking along his slit a couple of times in long wet stripes until he’s moaning, then prodding her tongue against and into his entrance. Martin doesn’t mind that, not when it’s a tongue, but fingers or god forbid a cock in there just feel like he’s got an open wound to be prodded. Sasha’s tongue is nicer though, softer and more supple and it gently works him open._ _

__Eventually, once Martin can see her shoulders rocking with every thrust of Tim’s hips, she moves her mouth to where Martin actually wants it, flicking her tongue over his cock. He likes that so much that Sasha has to move her hands back to Martin’s thighs and hold them open to stop him from closing them around her head._ _

__There’s footsteps from off the side of Martin’s vision and he turns his head to see Jon approaching the three of them._ _

__Jon’s a little hesitant, but when Martin reaches out for him, he’s straight over and clasping their hands together. Martin’s careful not to pull him in, not if he doesn’t want to get too close to what’s happening on the bed if he doesn’t want to, but Jon steps in close either way._ _

__“Hi.” Martin says._ _

__“Hello, sweetheart.” Jon says, and he leans down to kiss Martin’s forehead. “Are you feeling good?”_ _

__“Yeah.” Martin replies. And he is. Not teetering on the brink of orgasm, but Sasha’s tongue on him is growing more and more pleasant and his thighs are trembling every time she passes it over his cock._ _

__“Gonna come, Martin?” Tim asks._ _

__“Pretty soon.” Martin admits, and Tim is grinning at him from over Sasha’s shoulder._ _

__Jon leans down and Martin has to stop biting his lip to kiss him. Martin closes his eyes and just lets himself feel as Jon strokes down his cheeks to his neck and sides. Or, well, he mostly lets himself feel, but there’s a whole stretch of skin under his armpits that never got sensation back after top surgery and he can’t feel Jon’s hand when it strokes over him there._ _

__Then Sasha takes his cock in between her lips circles her tongue over the little bit of it that reaches all the way into her mouth, and that just makes Martin crack apart. Sasha has to hold his hips down to stop him bucking up as he comes, and Tim even has to stop railing her so hard so that she’s stable enough on the cot to do it. Jon strokes the sweaty curls away from Martin’s forehead as he pants his way through his orgasm._ _

__Martin sinks back as all his muscles untense. Sasha backs off a little to let him recover, although her breath is still hot and wet against his slit._ _

__“Hi there, darling.” Jon says, and he takes advantage of the fact Sasha’s mouth is currently unoccupied to slide a finger down under her chin and title her head up. Her mouth and chin are slippery with Martin’s fluid. “You made him come hard.”_ _

__“Hi.” She says, and she doesn’t have time to smile before Jon is kissing her._ _

__“Your hair is everywhere.” Jon says when the kiss breaks._ _

__Martin looks at her and it’s true. There’s strands of it stuck to where her lips and chin are wet and shiny._ _

__“Tie it back for me?” She asks, and she hands her hair tie to Jon._ _

__Jon brushes her hair back and gathers it at the nape of her neck. Martin isn’t really available to judge how neat Jon makes it, because Sasha takes that as the right moment to roll a finger against Martin’s cock, and when he doesn’t flinch away from it, she does it again and again and again, right until she puts her mouth back on him._ _

__Jon strokes up and down Sasha’s back and wraps his free arm around Tim’s shoulder. “Hello you.” He says._ _

__“Save the best for last?” Tim asks with a grin._ _

__“Hush.” Jon says, and he stops Tim from responding by kissing him. “Want a hand getting Sasha off?”_ _

__“ _Please_!” Sasha says before Tim can respond, and Martin tugs her back onto his cock as soon as she’s got that word out, because it is just not fair of her to stop touching him now._ _

__Jon reaches down between Sasha’s legs and whatever he’s doing down there must be good, because Martin can feel Sashs’s moans pick up from where her mouth is sealed around his cock, and then she goes ramrod stiff and Tim swears as she comes around him._ _

__None of them stop though. Sasha keeps her mouth on Martin, and Tim keep fucking her, while Jon’s hand never reappears from between her legs. Martin loses himself then, coming again in hot waves._ _

__Sasha moves to kiss Martin’s thighs while he recovers, but that quickly turns into little huffs of breath against the wet marks she’s left on his legs. “Going to come again?” Martin asks her._ _

__“Yeah.” She says. She looks up at him and honestly her face like this, already flushed and ruined and wet with Martin’s own slick, is so beautiful that he can’t help but reach his hands down to lace his hands with hers._ _

__“Go on then, come.” Martin tells her, and she shivers, laughs a little, but after a few seconds she does._ _

__Tim gasps, probably from the sensation of her clenching down around him, then his hips are stuttering as he comes too. He leans over to kiss Martin again, long and slow, until Martin breaks the kiss to gasp at the sudden sensation of Sasha tongue unexpectedly (but not unwelcome) back against him._ _

__“Do you want me to stop?” Jon asks, and Martin flounders for a moment before he realises that was directed at Sasha._ _

__She pulls away for a moment to tell Jon ‘no,’ but Martin can forgive her for that because she puts her mouth right back where it belongs. He’s so oversensitive by now that her tongue on his cock is almost painful, but it’s all intermingled with pleasure, and well, Martin can appreciate some pain alongside his pleasure when it’s as good as this._ _

__Jon turns to Tim. “You’ve made quite a mess of her.” Jon says to him. “You really ought to clean her up.”_ _

__There’s a stern hand on Tim’s shoulder, but he’d probably go down without its encouragement. Martin doesn’t have much of a view of what’s happening down there, but he can imagine what Tim licking his own spend out of Sasha looks like._ _

__With Tim taking care of Sasha, Jon has both of his hands back. He spends a moment scratching gently at Tim’s head with his clean hand for a moment before walking back up to the other end of the bed to give the same treatment to Sasha._ _

__Jon lifts his other hand to Martin’s mouth, the one that was between Sasha’s legs, the one that has unidentified fluids drying tacky on it. Jon’s fingers slide across Martin’s lips, and he opens his mouth for Jon to push inside._ _

__Martin can taste both of them on those fingers - the tang of Sasha’s cunt alongside the bitterness of Tim’s come. He licks Jon’s fingers clean and is ready to start sucking on them, but Jon reclaims his hand._ _

__“Are you -ah!” His attempt to talk is broken when Sasha sucks on him hard. “Are you sure you don’t want anything yourself?”_ _

__He risks a glance at Jon’s crotch, but there’s no tent in the fabric._ _

__“Not today, sweetheart.” Jon replies. “I just want to take care of you, all of you. I want you to feel good.”_ _

__“I do feel good.” Martin says._ _

__“Going to come again?” Jon asks him._ _

__“Yeah.” Martin says at the same time Sasha makes an affirmative noise against him._ _

__Sasha’s fingers tighten around his thighs, and Martin knows she’s probably as close to coming as he is. It’s a race to the finish line, and though he’s tired and burgeoning on sore, Martin knows he’s going to make it._ _

__Martin ends up coming first, maybe not as strong as the first couple of times, but he probably couldn’t handle that anyway. It becomes much too much all too fast and he has to push Sasha’s head away fast. He cradles her head in his hands and looks down at her fondly._ _

__“That was wonderful, but it’s your turn now.” Martin tells her._ _

__Jon shifts over to join him, places his hands lightly on the top of Sasha’s head while Martin cradles her chin. Their fingers overlap slightly. “You’ve done so well, you can manage one more orgasm, can’t you?” Jon says._ _

__Sasha nods, her movements limited by the hands on her, but apparently that’s still more reliable that talking. Her tongue is probably tired anyway, poor girl._ _

__“You deserve this,” Martin says, “you’ve been such a good girl.”_ _

__It’s apparently exactly what she needs to hear, because she trembles apart under the attention of the three of them, although to be honest, Tim’s probably done most of the work there. The man in question stands from where he was kneeling and the foot of the bed, then flops over Sasha’s back, squishing her up into Martin._ _

__“I could really go for a post-sex cigarette right now.” Tim says._ _

__“You’d need to go outside for that.” Jon tells him, although they both know that. No ignition sources in the Archives._ _

__“I really don’t feel like moving.” Tim admits._ _

__“I could make some tea instead?” Martin suggests, and there’s a general murmur of agreement. But with Sasha on top of him and Tim on top of her, getting off the cot is a daunting prospect._ _

__“I’ll do it.” Jon offers._ _

__“You don’t have to.” Martin says._ _

__“But you can let me.” Jon tells him. “I think the three of you need a moment.”_ _

__Jon’s tea doesn’t turn out quite as good as when Martin makes it, and it turns out to be nigh on impossible to fit all four of them on the cot for cuddles, let alone in a position where any of them can drink, but they make it work. They always do._ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's nothing living in a forgotten corner of the Archives, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> USA flashlight = UK torch  
> No one is carrying around flaming bits of wood.

“I thought I told you no noisy decorations.” Jon comes in from the door to what they’ve nicknamed ‘the deep Archives.’ 

There’s nothing spooky to the deep Archives. Or, at least, nothing spooky compared to the Archives as a whole. It’s just where the old shit gets tossed - the Statements from so far back there’s no point in trying to follow up with it because the people involved are long dead, or at the very least are mostly impossible to track down after eleven or so moves in the last forty odd years. So yeah, no one has much of a cause to go back there unless they find a Statement from, say, the 1920s mixed in with something far more modern. It’s technically ‘document storage room 2’ and it’s where all the roughly pre-Gertrude stuff is stored, but no one calls it that.

It also doesn’t have working lights. Well, that’s technically not true, because the lights are there on the ceiling and they turn on, but the sickly yellow glow from them is far from bright. It’s like the bulbs haven’t been changed in decades. All of them have raised the poor quality of light in there to Jon, and then up the chain to Elias at some point, but apparently they’re special bulbs designed not to degrade the fragile old inks and papers.

They’re just shit at lighting.

“What?” Martin replies.

“Whatever you’ve put back there needs to go.” Jon says.

“We barely go back there. I-I didn’t bother to put anything in those rooms.” Although now come to think of it, may he should have done. It has the ambience for some good stuff already built into it.

“Martin.” Jon says it sternly enough that it doesn’t need the rest of the sentence.

“I swear Jon!” Martin throws up his hands. “I didn’t put up anything that makes noise, and certainly not back there.”

“Eh, boss, if Martin said he didn’t, then he didn’t.” Tim chimes in. “You’ve got to believe him, right.”

Jon eyes Tim suspiciously, like he’s trying to work out if Tim is in on the joke that he’s concocted in his head. (If there was one, the answer would certainly be yes.)

“Are you sure you heard something?” Sasha asks. “This place is what, two hundred years old? Buildings like this make noises sometimes. It’s just the bricks settling.”

“It was not the building settling!” Jon says. “Sounded like moaning.”

“What kind of moaning?” Tim asks. “Like a ghostly _wooooooo_ , or…”

“Pretty sure we’re the only people who fuck in the Archives, and we’re all accounted for.” Sasha says.

“Are you sure it wasn’t just the wind?” Martin tries.

Jon rolls his eyes at that. “We’re underground - and no, it wasn’t the underground either. I know what a tube going by sounds like.”

“Well if Marto here didn’t put anything in there, and it wasn’t the wind, then have you considered-”

“It was not a ghost.” Jon says sternly.

“Are you sure about that?” Tim asks. Sasha is trying to hold in her snorts. “No chills down your spine, no certainly that someone was watching you, only there was nothing there when you turned around.”

“I think that’s pretty standard for this place.” Martin says to no one in particular.

“Definitely not a ghost.” Jon states. 

“Oh, does the all-knowing Archivist not believe in ghosts then?” Sasha says. “The Archives couldn’t possibly be haunted, and so close to halloween!”

“Halloween is weeks away and whatever’s in there, I want it gone!” Jon disappears into his office, slamming the door after him. He doesn’t reappear until lunch.

* * *

“So, there’s definitely something in the Deep Archives.” Sasha says.

“Mildew?” Tim suggests.

“Quite possibly,” Sasha says, “but Jon said there were funny noises in there yesterday and I’ve just put away a box of stuff misplaced from the early nineteen hundreds and I’m sure I heard them too.”

“Sure, Sash.” Tim says at the same time that Martin says “Wait, really?”

“To be clear - you’re serious?” Tim says. “You’re not just setting up a prank on Jon?”

She would. She definitely would. In fact, once Tim asks that Martin has a suspicion that she’s teamed up with Jon (of all people) to prank the two of them. Maybe in revenge to what was done on April fools day (Martin has no regrets - Jon’s face was _priceless_ ). Martin wouldn’t put it past her. And her poker face is killer, so there’s no way to see through her.

“I’m not saying it’s haunted,” Sasha begins, “but there’s something in the deep Archives.”

“And what do you propose we do about it?” Martin asks.

“Do either of you have a torch?”

“Nope.” Time pops the p. He looks faintly amused at the plan he can see falling into place.

“Why would I have a torch at work?” Martin asks.

Although come to think of it, one might be useful. He hasn’t got a bedside lamp and all the lightswitches in document storage are by the doors. Which means they’re pretty far from the cot. Mostly he has to stumble his way to bed in the dark, although once or twice he’s fallen asleep with the lights on.

“You’re both useless.” Sasha says. She turns and begins to walk over to the door to Jon’s office.

“You don’t have one either!” Tim points out. “Wait, where are you going?”

“To see if Jon has one.” Sasha says.

She pauses a moment outside the door, listening to see if Jon is recording. Then she raps on the door three times sharply.

Jon’s “Come in.” Filters through the door.

Sasha opens the door and steps inside. She leaves it ajar, and Tim and Martin hover on the threshold like anxious children. They can see the back of Sasha, but not Jon.

“Ah, Sasha.” Jon says.

“Have you got a torch?” Sasha asks.

“Several.” Jon replies. A drawer creaks as he opens it and begins searching through it. “What do you need one for?”

“Remember you were hearing strange noises yesterday in the deep Archives?” Sasha says. “I’ve just been in there and I heard them too.”

“We agreed it was probably nothing.” Jon says after a pause.

Martin distinctly remembers that was not the conclusion Jon came to yesterday. That he was adamant something was in there - and that that something had been placed there by Martin.

Sasha scoffs. “Really, Jon? I heard what you did. And I think something was moving around in there. Do you really want to sit and let it run amok?”

“Fine!” Jon exclaims. “But I’m sure there’s a perfectly rational explanation. We don’t need to jump to ghosts.”

“Not even at halloween?” Tim calls in to them.

“It is not halloween.” Jon comes out of his office, followed by Sasha. He’s holding several flashlights. “Not for another few weeks.”

“Jon had _three_ torches.” Sasha tells Tim and Martin smugly.

“Three?” Tim says. “Jon, why do you have three torches?”

Jon shrugs. “They were in there when I moved in.”

“So really, _Gertrude_ had three torches.” Martin says. And now they’ll never know why.

One of the torches turns out not to work, not even when Jon slaps it against his palm a couple of times. They leave it on Tim’s desk. Sasha ends up with one of the working torches and Jon the other with no discussion. 

All four of them gather around the door to the deep Archives. There’s a little jostling as they all try not to appear to be the one hanging at the back. Sasha ends up at the front. The door makes an ominous creak as she pushes it open.

“Has someone got the scooby snacks?” Tim asks. Martin swats at him in response.

Sasha crosses the threshold and the rest of them creep in afterwards. Risking a glance back, the rest of the Archives doesn’t look nearly as creepy as what’s ahead. It’s brightly lit for one thing, and the deep Archives just aren’t. Can’t be.

Martin hits the lightswitch as he passes it, but it doesn’t do much for all the dark recesses. The deep Archives is only one room, but it shouldn’t be. It’s massive, but split into little passages and alcoves, and lined wall-to-wall with shelves. Dendritic is the word that comes to mind. Or perhaps fractal.

The torch beams are flicked on, but honestly don’t do too much, their beams narrow and milky. Martin doesn’t know if they were crap to begin with or if they’re just both running low on batteries. They don’t agree verbally on it, but the four of them end up pressed together back-to-back.

“Where did you hear it?” Sasha whispers to Jon.

“Down that way, where the stuff from the second world war is stored.” Jon replies. “You?”

“Way in the back with nineteenth century forgein language statements.” Sasha says. There’s a pause, then she says “we’re not splitting up to investigate.”

Slowly, the four of them creep further into the room. There’s too many objects in here. Too many places to hide, but it’s silent except for the four of them breathing. Martin has chills running down his spine, but it doesn’t feel cold. It’s too dark to see if their breath is misting in front of them.

Jon starts, and he swings his torch beam round, which makes everyone else jump too, before all of them are staring at the little illuminated patch of shelving.

“What?” Tim hisses.

“Sorry.” Jon says. “I thought I saw something move.”

Tim laughs and Jon elbows him. “This isn’t funny!” Jon says.

“I’m sorry, this is how I cope with paranoia.” Tim says.

“Yours or his?” Sasha asks.

Then there’s a moan, or perhaps a yowl. It makes Martin’s hackles rise, and he jumps again when both Sasha and Jon grab his arms.

“You all heard it?” Jon says, and there’s a murmur of assent.

“It came from this direction.” Sasha says, and she starts to edge towards it. No one follows.

“Why are you going towards it?” Martin asks. They have confirmed something is in here and now he wants out of here before he can confirm what it is that’s sharing their space and how likely it is to try and eat one of them.

“The whole point of this is to find out what it is.” Sasha hisses. “C’mon, or we’ll leave you behind.”

It’s not clear which of them she’s really talking to, but they all follow her. The noise comes again. And again. And again until they’re standing in a little alcove lined with a bookshelf on each side. There are no books on them, just manila folders, all identical but for the number of pages stuffed within. A small, faded label on the leftmost bookcase identifies this set of information as ‘Wales, Apr 1923- Jun 1937’.

Both Jon and Sasha sweep the offending area with their torches. It’s as still as the grave. For a moment, there’s nothing but the sounds of the four of them breathing, slightly winded in the excitement. Then there’s the sound of movement from somewhere above.

Jon and Sasha swing their torches upwards and Martin expects to see some horrific beast clinging to the ceiling, its jaws open, but there’s nothing. It’s bare.

The noise comes again, along with one of the wails from before.

“The vents.” Sasha says.

‘Vents’ isn’t really the best word, but it’s the easiest way to describe it. It’s some horribly expensive custom made system that keeps the temperature constant and the humidity at just the right level to make your mouth dry. The carbon dioxide fire suppression system also feeds out of it - can’t have a water-based sprinkler system when it would turn the papers in here to mulch. 

“So it probably was the wind.” Martin says. “Or, you know, same difference.”

“We still need to look.” Sasha says. “If it’s broken, we’ll need to report it.”

“And if it’s not broken?” Jon asks.

There’s noise from up there again, and it certainly sounds like something is moving around in there. Something alive. 

But maybe it is just broken.

“Then we still need to look.” Sasha replies.

“Have you got a screwdriver on you?” Jon asks

“The vent covers just unhook.” Sasha says.

“How do you know that?” Martin asks.

“Don’t think about it too hard.” She replies.

“Which of them do you reckon it will be easier to lift?” Tim asks Martin, nodding over and Sasha and Jon.

Martin’s not sure, but he is sure that asking how much Sasha weighs is likely to cause a personal injury. She’s shorter than Jon is, but Jon’s also a lot bonier.

“Lifted?” Says Jon.

“Who said anything about getting lifted?” Adds Sasha.

“There’s no chairs or anything in here.” Tim points out. “And none of us are exactly tall enough to reach up there without a hand.”

“Fine!” Sasha says. “I’ll look, but I’m sitting on your shoulders. No princess lift required.”

It’s an awkward maneuver, getting her onto Tim’s shoulders, but they manage it. Martin has to hold her torch as she climbs atop Tim, who has crouched down to let her reach. Her skirt bunches around his neck, but she fits. Sasha wobbles slightly as Tim slowly stands up with her on his back, but a hand on the ceiling steadies her, and if she can reach that, then she can reach the vent.

Martin hands the torch back to her and Tim positions her beneath the vent, looking in through a grill. She hasn’t unhooked it yet, just in case whatever is inside turns out to be dangerous. Sasha flicks the light on and shines it into the inside of the duct. There’s a pause.

“Oh my God.” She whispers.

“What is it?” Martin asks. In a place like this, where they read about various horrors hidden away in the dark on the daily, it’s easy for the imagination to fill in what might be inside there.

“A kitten.” She says.

“I’m sorry?” Martin says. “A kitten?”

But Sasha is too busy cooing at it to reply. She tries to wiggle her fingers through the grate, but the gaps aren’t wide enough.

The kitten makes some noise in response to what she’s doing, and it’s definitely the source of what they’ve been hearing, but now they know what it is, it’s certainly recognisable as ‘cat noises’ albeit it distorted from being filtered through long metal pipes.

“Can you get it out?” Jon asks.

“It’s scared and hasn’t approached me.” Sasha says. “I think it will run if I try to grab it, and that’s assuming I can get the grate off without it bolting.

“Can we trap it?” Tim asks.

“Maybe if we open up another vent?” Sasha says. “Trap it between two holes and grab it as it runs past?”

“Is there another vent cover?” Martin asks.

Jon’s torch sweeps the length of the duct until it highlights an identical vent cover a few meters down. And a few meters up. No higher than the one Sasha is over by, but too far up for Jon to reach on his own.

“Time to saddle up, Martin.” Tim says with a grin. He doesn’t even appear to be straining with Sasha on his back, but Martin knows the same will not be true when Jon climbs on him.

“How are we going to do this?” Martin asks.

“Get on your knees.” Tim says.

Martin blushes. It’s not the first time any of them have said that to him, but, well, the situation was different. Even if in both circumstances the end result is a pair of legs being thrown over his shoulders.

Tim helps Jon steady himself as he climbs on board, then Sasha lends a hand too as Martin slowly stands. Jon is heavier than Martin is really comfortable in carrying, even like this, but he can manage for the time being. Martin places his hands on the tops of Jon’s thighs to steady him.

“I’m not sure who, but at least one of you owes me a massage after this.” Martin says.

“Of course, love.” Jon says, and he places his hands over where Martin’s rest and squeezes.

Martin moves Jon into position, lets him examine how the cover latches onto the vent.

“Okay?” Sasha asks.

“I’ve got it.” Jon says. “On three?” 

“One.” Sasha says.

“Two.” Jon joins the countdown.

“Three!” And they both begin to unfasten the cover.

There’s four little hooks that need to be moved to remove the thing, as far as Martin can see. The first two come easily, come silently, but the third won’t budge. Jon moves onto the fourth, but that’s proven stubborn too.

“Mines off.” Sasha says. “Is yours?”

“It’s stuck.” Jon says. “Has the cat moved yet?”

“Not yet.” Sasha says. “Can you bang the cover? If you make some move it might be scared towards me and I can grab it.”

“Okay.” Jon says. He curls his fingers under the loose edge of the cover and pulls it down. When he lets go, it hits the duct with a loud bang, bounces off, and proceeds to vibrate and hit the metalwork a couple more times. The revertibrations hide any noise of movement from within the pipe.

“I got it!” Sasha shouts. Then she hisses and swears. “Jesus fuck, it has teeth like needles.”

Jon scrambles down off Martin and he’s not exactly gentle about it. Martin rubs at the spot on his thigh that Jon decided to use as a foothold while the other man moves over to Sasha. Jon shrugs off his cardigan for Sasha to swaddle the cat in, away from any fingers it might be able to catch.

Martin walks over to the other three. There is a small black cat in her arms with little balls of dust stuck to its fur. It is vocal about finding itself in a new situation, but when Tim extends a finger to it, it cowers and sniffs at him instead of going straight to biting.

Martin doesn’t know much about cats. His mother never approved of pets. There was a stray he’d sometimes pet that lived outside their block of flats, and once she’d had a litter, but the only time Martin saw those kittens, they were much smaller than this one is.

“This is your fault, Martin.” Jon says.

“I’m sorry, how is this my fault?” Martin asks.

“Who here has a track record of letting animals into the Archives?” Jon says.

Martin glowers. You let one dog into the Archives (by accident, mind you) and you’re suddenly responsible for every event down here that involves anything that doesn’t walk on two legs.

Tim laughs. “He does have a point, Marto.” He looks down at the creature in Sasha’s arms. “I’d say this bugger is maybe ten weeks old? And not totally feral, must have been around humans at some point.”

“Who made you the expert, Stoker?” Sasha asks.

Tim shrugs. “My parents always had cats, always rescues. The truly feral ones don’t let you get close - it’d be fighting to get out of your arms a lot harder.” The kitten has given up fighting, choosing instead to snuggle into Jon’s cardigan. “One of them got pregnant before we could get her spayed. I was fourteen and helped look after her kittens.”

Sasha shrugs, acquiescing. They all file out of the deep Archives, holding the doors open for Sasha as they go, since her arms are otherwise occupied.

Martin procures the largest cardboard box with at least some structural integrity. The sides on it are tall enough that he doesn’t think it can get out. Sasha places her bundle, cat, clothing and all, into the box while Martin finds the smallest mug possible to put some water in (a stray teacup).

The creature dives on the offering of water.

“Poor guy, so thirsty.” Martin coos.

“I’m sorry to say that your cardigan might have been requisitioned for a better cause.” Sasha says to Jon, but he just waves her concerns away. Martin can tell he’s already besotted.

“What are we going to do with it?” Martin asks.

“It needs to go to the vet.” Jon says. “It might be microchipped.”

It also might not be. Jon certainly sounds like he hopes it isn’t. Martin chalks down that tiny adorable kittens do indeed seem to be the way to Jon’s heart.

“And if it isn’t?” Sasha asks.

“I guess you can keep it then?” Jon says to Sasha.

“Oh, _I_ can keep it, can I?” Sasha says. “Because clearly the only woman on the team is the one who gets the fluffy animal.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Jon says. “You asked and my lease doesn’t allow for pets.” He sounds put out by that. Martin recalls Jon bringing it up before. It’s not the first time he’s thought about getting a pet.

“Neither does mine.” Sasha says.

“Or mine.” Martin chimes in. (Which is technically true - he _could_ ask, but that’s an extra deposit and they raise the rent and he can’t really afford it).

“Same.” Tim says. “Fuck.”

“We can’t put it up for adoption.” Sasha says. “It’s almost halloween and black cats get murdered this time of year.”

“Most black pets aren’t adopted at all.” Tim admits. “Archive cat?”

“Would Elias let us keep it?” Martin wonders aloud.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him!” Tim says cheerfully. “As long as the boss is fine with it.” He gives Jon a long stare.

It takes very little pressure to make Jon cave.

* * *

The vet proclaims the cat healthy, if a little malnourished. He also proclaims it female and Sasha decides on the name ‘Ghost’ before anyone can suggest anything different, much to Jon’s disgust.

He must come around though, because the newly dubbed Ghost is then granted the position of 'senior archival assistant' (which is quickly changed to senior arcatval hissistant). Upon questioning, Jon confirms that the cat does indeed outrank the three of them, and that they will be eligible for promotion at the end of the financial year, but may wish to consider carefully if they want to go for it, because any pay rise due to that promotion will be paid in tins of tuna.

He then appoints Martin as the one to litter train her and this situation is clearly Martin’s fault. It’s not an enviable task, but having a work pet more than makes up for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elias brings up the addition to the Archive staff in his next meeting with Jon. Jon manages to convince Elias to keep the new team member using the following points:  
> -Pest control  
> -Moral support for staff and statement-givers alike  
> -Ghost is very charming and well-behaved  
> -Please.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin's underwear is just too scary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started planning this fic thinking 'you know, I just won't make this one kinky.' This is the chapter that made me hardcore fail that. Anyway, have some Jon/Martin.
> 
> CW:  
> -Spanking  
> -Anal sex where the recipient is a trans man who does not enjoy vaginal penetration.  
> -Under-negotiated kink, however it is implied this kink has been explored before.

There’s a lot of disadvantages that come with living in the Archives. Limited space. Little privacy. Lack of amenities like the ability to wash your clothes, although there is thankfully a bathroom with a shower on the ground floor, so Martin is at least able to wash himself. He tends to avoid it when the building is populated though, because even the employee showers aren’t really private.

But there are advantages too. No worms is a big one, but there’s smaller ones too. It’s pretty hard for him to be late for work anymore (he’s still managed it twice). The breakroom always seems to be stoked with teabags and biscuits. And everyone is quick to check in on him. Make sure he’s still okay.

And Martin can do the same in return. Like tonight, when it’s almost ten in the evening and he’s dressed down for bed and Jon is still fucking here. Because of course he is.

It’s not even like he can ignore Jon and get on with his evening, because the nearest thing Martin has to a bedroom right now is document storage, and that’s one of the areas Jon needs access to in order to work.

Case in point, Martin’s just lounging on the cot in the dark, phone in hand when Jon comes in balancing a box of documents between his hand and his hip while he flounders for the light switch.

“Oh, sorry.” Jon says. “Were you sleeping?”

“Oh, no, just winding down a bit before bed, not really that tired yet and - Jon?” Martin trails off, because Jon is still standing in the same position, hand on the light switch, staring. “Jon! What?”

“You know, I’ve spent most of my day reading through the general public’s personal horror stories, cross-referencing their various monsters, and yet that underwear is the greatest abomination I’ve come across yet.”

“Is it really that bad?” Martin asks.

These briefs are new, acid green and printed with cartoon ghosts and pumpkins. When he saw them, a three pack with another couple of halloween-themed pairs, Martin was surprised they even came in adult sizes. And then he bought them.

“They’re awful.” Jon says. “Terrible.”

“I didn’t-”

“Incredibly scary. You should take them off.”

“If,” Martin says, “it will stop you from catching the vapours, then I supposed I ought to.”

Martin stands, pulls them down and off, sending a little prayer of thanks that he’s not packing right now, because fishing his dick out right now would be awkward. His t-shirt is big and baggy to cover him most of the way, hitting him around mid-thigh.

“I’ll see if I can find something plainer to put on.” Martin says. He’s got to have some clean underwear somewhere. He can just picture the way Jon would pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh if Martin got out more halloween themed underwear.

“I think you’re fine like that.” Jon says.

“Oh. Oh! Are you done for the day?” Martin asks with a bit of an eyebrow waggle. He hasn’t got it down quite like Tim has though. That man can make his eyebrows dance with a straight face.

“Unfortunately not.” Jon says, and he rolls his eyes at Martin’s frown.

“I can help if it will get it done faster.” Martin offers.

Jon shakes his head. “It’s mostly things I need to read and sign, so there’s nothing you can actually do. I’m not desperate enough to resort to forgery. Yet.”

“I’m not sure I can just lounge around knowing you’re working way later that you should.” Martin says.

“I know, I know.” Jon says.

“Don’t hole up in your office to do it, okay?” Martin says. “I’ll come out into the main area and tidy up, maybe clean the kitchen area. Something useful, at least. It won’t be too loud out there if it’s just me.”

And that way he can make sure that Jon doesn’t start ‘just one more task’ before leaving tonight. Because he would.

He shuts himself up in his office for most of the day. It’s understandable when he’s recording - he needs the quiet. But he tends not to be too sociable at all in the work day, citing the noise of three people in an office too much to bear. And sometimes his back could really do with using the spare standing desk they have. Martin doesn’t know how Jon managed to cope with working in research - that department is so much bigger and it can get quite loud.

Jon lifts his hands in surrender. “Fine by me.” He says.

Out in the main room, Jon takes a seat at Tim’s desk with his back to the door. That spot has a good view of the rest of the room, but it’s also tidier than Martin or Sasha’s desks. Not that Jon himself has that much of a leg to stand on in that regard.

Martin knows Jon is keeping one eye on him as he washes dirty mugs. Knows it for certain when he turns around and Jon quickly looks down to his paperwork, the picture of innocence and focus. It’s true that Martin always feels a little like he’s being watched in here, but the weight of Jon’s gaze upon him is palpable.

He’s done with the washing up and has moved onto wiping crumbs off the counter when Martin realises just why Jon might be staring. Namely, Martin realises how short the t-shirt he’s wearing gets when he stretches, how it might ride up as he moves. And now, at Jon’s instance, there’s nothing beneath it.

Martin tests the idea, leans over far more than is necessary to clean the far side of the counter. He can feel the cool air against his bare cheeks, knows exactly how much he’s flashing. Jon’s chair creaks as he leans forward to leer.

Jon is red-faced when Martin turns around to look for another job to do that might involve some bending over. He spots the perfect task - a box-full of newly delivered folders that need to be unpacked and placed for storage on a tall shelf. Also much closer to Jon, with no obstructed view.

Bending over to pick up the folders likely gives Jon a view of, well, everything Martin has to offer. Then he pulls over a stepping stool to reach the top shelf. Martin still has to stretch to reach, and the hem of his t-shirt pulls up each time he does. Most satisfactory is the fact that the frequency of Jon’s pen scribble noises drops significantly, until they stop coming at all.

“I think that’s quite enough for tonight.” Jon says.

“Done?” Martin asks.

“Not in the slightest,” Jon admits, “but I’m finding it terribly difficult to focus.”

“And whyever is that?” Martin teases. He climbs down from the stool, since it looks like they’re done for the evening.

Jon walks over to him. Strides really, until he’s in range to catch hold of Martin’s wrist. “I think you know why.” He says.

Jon kisses him then, dirtier than he usually does, but Martin’s in the mood to reciprocate. He slides his hands down Martin’s backside, urges their hips together. Martin can feel Jon against him, not achingly hard, but certainly not soft either. Still, Jon’s not always up for actual sex, so it’s probably safest to check where his head is.

“Do you want to have sex, Jon?” Martin asks.

“I do.” Jon says. “I was thinking about taking you to my desk, bending you over it, and punishing you for being such a tease before fucking you if I think you’ve earned it. If that’s all right by you?”

“Punish me how?” Martin asks.

“Spanking,” Jon replies, “since you keep showing me your arse.” He punctates his words with a squeeze of the apparently offending part of Martin’s body.

“Sounds like fun, let’s do it.” Martin says.

Jon leads him by the wrist to his office. He’s the only one of them to have a private room, but he is the Head Archivist, so that does make sense. His desk is bigger too, more imposing. Less school boy and more of a centrepiece, complete with nicely carved legs and in-built drawers.

The desk chair gets kicked out of the way and Jon crowds Martin up against the desk in the space it used to occupy, kissing him soundly. Then he flips Martin around.

“You should clear some space, since you seem to enjoy tidying so much.” Jon says. “Then I can bend you over this desk and give you what you deserve for being such a tease.”

“I’m sorry.” Martin says.

“You’re going to be.”

Jon’s desk isn’t the tidiest. Worse than Martin’s is, but nowhere on the level of Sasha’s though. He doesn’t know where everything needs to go, so Martin just clears space as best he can and hopes Jon’s organisational skills let him sort back through everything Martin moves, especially the scattered papers that he bunches into a single stack and places out of the way. The stray pens go back in the pen pot, the empty mugs to one side. Jon’s keyboard just gets brushed out of the way.

The desk doesn’t end up _tidy _per se, but there’s enough clear space in the middle of it now.__

__Jon’s hand, placed between Martin’s shoulder blades, urges him down. He doesn’t push so hard that Martin has no choice but to bend over, but he really doesn’t see the point in resisting. They’ve done things like this before and Martin knows that what Jon’s about to do to him will hurt, and that both of them will relish in it._ _

__There’s nothing to remove from Martin’s body - the shirt rides up as he bends over and by the time he’s got his forearms braced on the desk-top, he knows he’s laid bare to Jon._ _

__“Would you rather a smaller number of hard hits, or should I hold back a little so that you can take a bit more?” Jon asks._ _

__Or in another way - do you just want the sensation of being spanked, or do you want to be hurt?_ _

__“Hit me hard.” Martin says. “I want to feel it tomorrow.”_ _

__“Ten then, and you’ll count them for me.” Jon says._ _

__“Only ten?”_ _

__“Christ Martin! Think of my poor hand.” Jon says._ _

__“What, this is going to pain you as much as it pains me?” Martin snarks._ _

__“You’re getting dangerously close to me not fucking you at all tonight. If you don’t behave, I’m just going to leave you wet and wanting.” Jon says._ _

__“I’m sorry.” Martin says quickly. “Ten is good.”_ _

__“If you want more after those, and I think you can take them, we can renegotiate then.” Jon says. “Are you ready?”_ _

__“Yes.” Martin says._ _

__The first blow doesn’t come immediately, and the anticipation builds until Martin wonders if Jon is going to hit him at all. Just as he starts to relax, the first hit connects._ _

__And yes, it _hurts_ , but it’s supposed to and it’s good. A startling slapping noise as Jon’s open palm comes down, a sharp pain as it meets Martin’s flesh, then the sting mellows into something that’s warm and burning. The shock of it makes Martin gasp._ _

__“One.” He says. Late. Only barely remembering to._ _

__Jon gives him a moment between the first spank and the second. Enough that Martin could call it off if he had second thoughts. Or to tell Jon that that’s just too hard. It isn’t though. It’s just right._ _

__Number two comes down on the opposite cheek. Lower, almost on the thigh. This time Martin cries out, more than just a gasp. He can feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. “T-two.” He stutters, his voice thick._ _

__“It’s okay to cry.” Jon tells him._ _

__With that, the first of the tears begin to trickle down his face and Martin knows he won’t be dry-eyed again until Jon’s done. But Jon told him it was okay. Jon probably wants to see him like this. And sure enough, Martin weeps as Jon rains down blows and he chokes out “three” and “four.”_ _

__Jon draws back for a moment, no doubt to enjoy the four red handprints emblazoned on Martin’s arse. He strokes over the marks, then slaps one gently and Martin starts from the sting of it._ _

__“That one doesn’t count.” Martin says. “Not hard enough.”_ _

__“If you insist.” Jon says, and Martin can hear his smile._ _

__He can still feel Jon’s hand on his behind when there’s a touch between his legs too. Martin’s thighs tense and try to close around Jon’s other hand, but Jon just strokes at him gently until he relaxes again. A digit parts his lips and coats itself in the fluid it finds there._ _

__“You’re enjoying this.” Jon observes._ _

__“I- _yes!_ ” Before Martin can get his answer fully out, Jon slides his hand forward and presses it to Martin’s cock._ _

__And he leaves it there. No further pressure. No movement. Just there._ _

__Then Jon hits him, hard enough this time that his arms slip a little on the desk. The force of it pushes his cock up into Jon’s fingertips and Martin can just see the way that this is going to go from now on. No that he’s going to complain - he’s aching to be touched._ _

__“Five.” Martin says._ _

__The next three come in quick succession and Martin calls out their numbers between his pants. There’s sweat on his brow to mingle with his tears and it’s difficult to tell how much of the dampness between his thighs is sweat and how much of it is the stuff from his cunt that Jon’s spreading around._ _

__He’s burning up - there’s heat rising from the parts of him Jon has hit, and the hand on his cock has him warm and squirming too._ _

__Another blow lands and this time it hurts so badly that Martin yelps. But even still he doesn’t want to stop. Especially when Jon’s fingers against his cock feel that good. Not enough to come, at least not yet, but it’s a distinct possibility._ _

__“Nine.” Martin says. His voice sounds strained. Broken. “I’m sorry.”_ _

__“Sorry for what?” Jon asks._ _

__“I’m sorry for distracting you.” Martin knows his lines by now. They’ve done things like this before and he knows what to say, even if Jon didn’t say he was expecting an apology. “I’m sorry for being such a dirty tease!”_ _

__“I forgive you,” Jon says, “but I’m going to have to complete your punishment. You’re doing very well.” Jon tells him. “And I do like how your rear end looks all rosy like this.”_ _

__Jon draws back a little, runs a finger from Martin’s upper thigh up to the small of his back. Then his hand retreats and Martin’s still bracing for it when he gets the brief warning of the woosh of Jon’s palm as it comes at him._ _

__Martin yells as it connects and it’s almost as loud as the sound of skin on skin. “Ten.” He says, and then everything is still except the heaving of Martin’s chest as he sobs._ _

__“Look at me, love?” Jon says, and Martin cranes his neck to look at Jon. He reaches out to Martin, swipes his thumb through the track of tears on his cheeks. “How are you doing?” He asks._ _

__Martin knows how he looks, red-eyed and snotty-nosed. Knows he looks wrecked. Jon just smiles down at him like that’s exactly what he wanted to see. It probably is._ _

__“I want more.” Martin says._ _

__“Are you sure?” Jon asks. “I’ve pushed you pretty close to your limit.”_ _

__That’s true. They’re already past the point where Martin’s going to be able to be able to feel this tomorrow. He’s in pain, true, but it’s the good kind of pain. The kind that feels clean and reminds you you’re alive._ _

__“Please.” Martin begs._ _

__“Two more.” Jon concedes._ _

__Martin untwists his neck, hangs his head because it’s just too heavy for his neck right now. Jon retakes his position, a hand between Martin’s legs and body a little off to the side, just close enough that Martin can feel the brush of Jon’s trousers against his shin._ _

__Jon’s hand comes down, a sharp slap pushing Martin up onto his hand. Martin’s cunt spasms at the same time as the pain racks through him and he can barely parse it from the pleasure. He’s barely got out “eleven” before the second blow lands. Martin screws his eyes shut as hot tears fall._ _

__“Twelve.” He gasps. “Please, I’m so close.”_ _

__“I’ve got you.” Jon says._ _

__And he does. He knows what Martin meant, knows to rub down against Martin’s cock until orgasm takes him. There’s a small rustle of fabric as Jon steps in closer, but Martin hardly notices, too distracted by how hard he’s coming._ _

__Jon keeps it up right to the point when the tension bleeds out of Martin and he comes down from the high, sagging over the desk._ _

__“Are you still up to being fucked?” Jon asks. “I’ve got lube in the drawer, and some balm if you want to bring the pain down a level.”_ _

__“How long have you been planning this?” Martin asks._ _

__Jon snorts. “This is hardly the first time I’ve bent someone over this desk.” He says. “It doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”_ _

__“Balm first, but I want your cock after.” Martin says._ _

__“Do you want some painkillers too?” Jon asks._ _

__“Not now.” Martin says. “Maybe later.” He really needs to see how much of the pain will be long-lasting to judge that._ _

__Jon nods, and he leans down and opens up one of the drawers in his desk. He gets out a couple of bottles, but Martin doesn’t catch sight of what else might be hidden away in there before it gets closed again._ _

__The bottle of lotion must be half full from the way it sloshes when Jon gives it a shake. He squeezes a dollop out into his hand and begins to apply it lightly to Martin’s skin._ _

__“Don’t be too gentle, you can rub it in.” Martin says._ _

__The cream is cool as Jon applies it, although whether there’s something in it that has that effect or whether it’s just a bit cold compared to his heated skin is anyone’s guess. Jon rubs it in gently, but at Martin’s request he does actually rub rather than just apply it in dabs. He goes for full coverage too, over Martin’s arse cheeks, but also a little way down the backs of his thighs because some of the blows hit a little lower._ _

__Jon pets at him a little longer than is strictly necessary to apply full coverage, but who is Martin to complain if Jon wants to indulge himself? And it’s not like he doesn’t enjoy the attention._ _

__“Where do you want me to stick my cock?” Jon asks. “I could fuck you pretty thighs, or you could turn around and I’ll make use of your mouth. If you’re patient, I could work your arse open. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”_ _

__“I can be patient.” Martin says._ _

__“Can you?” Jon asks. He presses his thumb against Martin’s rim. “Long enough for me to get in here?”_ _

__“Please.” Martin says. “I want it.”_ _

__Jon’s fingers leave him a minute, but it’s just to open up the lube. Martin laughs at the almost fart-like noise the bottle makes as Jon squeezes some out. The bottle has been used enough that it’s running closer to empty than full and Martin has to wonder how many times Jon has dragged Tim or Sasha (or both) in here for something similar._ _

__Martin starts at the cool touch of a lubed-up finger. Jon strokes over the pucker of his arsehole, until he feels Martin relax into it. Then he adds enough pressure to push inside._ _

__It’s a slow steady slide into him. Not really pleasurable yet, but Martin has found himself more than used to the sensation over the years. He’s always preferred taking someone in here instead of in the front. The stretch will be nice, he knows, once there’s more inside him. But it’s the mentality, the ‘ _hey, you’re about to get fucked_ ’ that really gets him going._ _

__“Comfortable?” Jon asks once he’s all the way in._ _

__“Yeah.” Martin says. “Keep going.”_ _

__Jon works him open, adding a second finger, then a third at Martin’s prompts. There’s honestly a little too much lube going on - Martin can feel the cold trail of it where it’s dripped out of him and down towards his thighs - but he’d rather too much than too little. Jon is thankfully overzealous in his prep, but Martin’s been taken like this before underprepared and it’s not something he’s looking to re-experience._ _

__“I think I’m ready.” Martin says when Jon’s got three fingers in him sunk past the second knuckle._ _

__“You think?” Jon says, and he twists his fingers in a way which makes Martin groan._ _

__“I do know how big your cock is!” Martin says. It’s true that Jon doesn’t get his dick wet often, but it’s not like it never happens._ _

__“Do you want me to put a condom on?” Jon asks._ _

__The four of them are exclusive, and they’ve all been tested, so it’s not like Jon could get him sick (or vice versa), and Martin’s taken the necessary precautions so that if Jon’s, uh, seed gets splashed around a little he won’t be getting any rounder. But condoms are a wonderful way to contain any mess._ _

__That being said, Martin is already sloppy with lube._ _

__“I’m fine if you don’t want to.” He tells Jon._ _

__Jon hugs him from behind and Martin can feel his shaky exhale of breath against his neck. “Okay.” He says, and he squeezes Martin once before withdrawing his arms so he can line himself up properly._ _

__Jon pushes in slowly, and just shallowly to start with. Even after extensive stretching, it’s still a lot for Martin to take. Jon’s cock is more solid than his fingers were when they scissored apart, and Martin knows for a fact that it’s longer than his fingers could reach._ _

__He starts with little shallow thrusts, sinking deeper and deeper each time as Martin gets used to the sensation, right up to the point where he’s fully sheathed. Jon holds Martin by the hips for leverage as he fills his partner with each long slow roll of his hips._ _

__There’s no hand on his cock now, which Martin would really appreciate, but he needs both arms to brace himself on the desk. Jon knows that while Martin enjoys the act of penetration, that alone isn’t going to make him come, but that doesn’t mean he won’t touch Martin later. Or perhaps after Jon himself comes, he’ll be inclined to get on his knees to help Martin out._ _

__“Harder.” Martin demands, because Jon is still using those long slow strokes._ _

__Jon hums. “I think I like you just like this.” He says._ _

__“Please, Jon.” Martin says._ _

__Jon laughs, and he doesn’t pick up the pace. He reaches around, takes Martin’s cock between his fingers, and begins to stroke him off in times to his long thrusts._ _

__“No.” Jon says. “You said you could be patient. Well, you’re going to have to be while I take you apart piece by piece.”_ _

__Martin moans. Yes, he’d get there faster if Jon fucked him quick and dirty, but either way the ending of this is inevitable. The slower pace means it takes longer for his orgasm to build, but that means it’s probably going to be harder too._ _

__It takes some time, but after a while Jon’s hand on his cock goes from pleasant to frankly amazing and Martin’s cunt spasms with every stroke he’s given. He knows he’s close to the edge, can’t help but rolls his hips back into Jon’s thrusts. Martin holds off on his orgasm for as long as he can, teetering on the pleasurable brink but never quite tumbling over. But the end cannot be held off indefinitely._ _

__He slams his hands down on the desk as he comes, making the stationary in Jon’s pen pot rattle. He clenches down hard enough to make Jon swear, and he comes too just as Martin gets out the other side of his orgasm, timed just right to fuck Martin through the aftershocks, but not into oversensitivity._ _

__Jon slips out of him, but he stays close to Martin, pressing his face into Martin’s back._ _

__“Okay?” Martin asks._ _

__“Yes, just give me a moment.” Jon says, and he wraps his arms around Martin and squeezes._ _

__Martin tolerates it for a few minutes. He can feel Jon’s sway from side to side. But until Jon lets him turn around he can’t return the embrace. Jon breaks it before Martin can find a tactful way out._ _

__“Shower?” Jon asks._ _

__Martin showered earlier this evening, but it’s fair to say he’s in need of another one. The showers themselves aren’t in the depths of the Archives - they’re up on the ground floor with most of the ‘amenities’ offered to employees - very few people actually work on that floor. Allegedly they’re meant for people who cycle into work, but Martin’s not going to sneer at the facilities on offer._ _

__“Yeah.” Martin says._ _

__Jon tucks himself away and does up his trousers. They need washing - there’s greasy marks on them where the lotion on Martin’s arse and thighs has rubbed off. Martin considers finding something to put on his lower half, but it’s gone ten in the evening and it’s not like there’ll be anyone around. In fact, he knows the building is already locked up for the night and Jon has a set of keys somewhere he has to use to let himself out. (Keys Martin does not have and he does not like to dwell on the implications of what might happen to him if there were a fire.)_ _

__The lube goes back in the drawer, but Jon keeps hold of the lotion._ _

__“Are you sore?” Jon asks._ _

__“A little.” Martin says. Maybe more than a little._ _

__“I’ll put some more lotion on you after the shower, and you might want to take some painkillers before bed.” Jon says. “There’s some ibuprofen gel in the first aid kit, but I don’t think you can use that on large areas.”_ _

__“Oh, and my arse is a large area is it?” Martin teases._ _

__“I am not falling for that trap!” Jon says._ _

__Jon takes him by the hand and doesn’t drop it until they’ve reached their destination. There’s a small changing room, which looks distressingly like the one Martin had to use for P.E. at school, and aren’t those happy memories?_ _

__The cubicles are small enough that they can’t avoid touching each other if they don’t want to touch cold wet walls. That’s the excuse anyway. It’s nice to have Jon’s hands on him, and vice versa, not even in a sexual way. Afterwards, too, when Jon reapplies the cream to Martin’s backside._ _

__“Are you going home now?” Martin asks._ _

__“I could stay,” Jon says, “get some more work done.”_ _

__“Jon.” Martin says, his tone serious. “I don’t need you to stay. I need you to go home, and get some rest.”_ _

__“Martin-”_ _

__“Promise me, love.”_ _

__Jon sighs. “I promise.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter count has gone up, because I had a short scene to stick at the end of chapter 4 and I went 'what if there was a sex scene in here too...'
> 
> And 6,000 or so words later I decided it should probably be its own chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to carve some pumpkins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the fourth chapter of this halloween fic. It's probably about time I put something overtly halloweeny in it.
> 
> CW:  
> -Blood, mild injury detail, first aid.

Apparently halloween fever isn’t contained to just the Archives. Two weeks out from the day itself, the colleague connections team announces several competitions including: pumpkin carving, apple bobbing, and a number of costume categories. And, for the first time ever, there is to be interdepartmental trick-or-treating to encourage bonding outside one’s immediate co-workers.

As expected, Jon hates the idea. And he’s vocal about it.

Tim and Sasha are of course on Martin’s side about throwing themselves into these activities and convincing a begrudging Jon to join in. Because it’s almost comical how much it all annoys him, but he’s a complete pushover when it comes to his partners.

The pumpkin carving competition comes first, around a week out from halloween itself, with the rest of the events being on the day. Well - apple bobbing is the Friday before, but the four of them have unanimously decided that apple bobbing is a stupid tradition and no one is really interested in that.

Apples are not a worthwhile prize for dunking your head in a bucket of water.

But on the morning of the twenty-third, Sasha arrives with two extra bags (each containing two large pumpkins) and complaints about how much her arms hurt. Ostentatiously, the pumpkin carving competition is to be judged at lunch time the next day.

There’s no room for them on her desk, so they go down on the floor next to it. Tim and Martin notice - of course they do, they’re right there - but the three of them wait in anticipation for Jon to realise they’re there. They sit like little orange time bombs. Or, well, medium orange time bombs at the very least.

Tim waits until Jon’s sequestered in his office to ask “So Sasha, what’s with the pumpkins?”

“For the carving competition tomorrow. I thought we could use some time this afternoon for team building.”

“Jon will never go along with it.” Martin says.

“Jon will absolutely go along with it if you make puppy dog eyes at him.” Sasha responds. Martin rolls said eyes at her, but she’s probably right.

“Are we carving them with our teeth then?” Tim asks.

“You know, I’d love to see your attempt at that, but I do have some supplies.” Sasha says.

She pulls a plastic bag out of her rucksack and gestures for them to come over and see the contents. Inside are a couple of plastic bowls, a few large metal spoons, several knives (some of which Martin is sure can’t be legal to carry on the underground), and a bottle of bleach.

“Is the bleach to help dispose of Jon’s body should he refuse?” Tim asks.

“Soaking pumpkins in a bleach solution helps stop them from rotting, but I shall take your consideration in mind.” Sasha responds.

Jon comes out of his office around mid-morning and he spots the pumpkins immediately. That does not stop him from asking what they are.

“Do you not know what pumpkins are?” Sasha asks.

“I know what pumpkins are.” Jon says. “I don’t know what they’re doing in here.”

“ _We_ are going to be entering the pumpkin carving competition.” Sasha says. She makes it clear that ‘we’ includes Jon and is not limited to just his assistants.

“Well, you can have fun with that after work.” Jon replies. It’s not clear if he didn’t parse Sasha’s meaning, of if he’s choosing to pretend he didn’t.

“Jon,” Tim injects, “have you noticed that there are four pumpkins?”

“I suppose that leaves room for errors.” Jon says. “I can’t imagine pumpkin is an easy medium in which to correct mistakes.”

“Or it means there is one for each of us.” Martin says.

“I am perfectly fine sitting this one out, thanks.” Jon says.

“After Sasha went to all this trouble?” Tim says.

“Yeah Jon, I’ve gone to the effort,” she says, “you could at least try joining in.”

“It would mean a lot to me.” Martin adds. “To all of us.”

Jon sighs. “Fine.” He says sternly, and then a little softer “fine.” And that’s the end of the matter.

* * *

Jon does manage to convince them to wait until after work, rather than take some time out of the afternoon as Sasha had originally planned.

It’s clear she thought this through, though. It turns out there’s a whole pumpkin carving workshop packed neatly into her rucksack. They move their desks to create an open space in the middle of the shared office, and Sasha pulls a waterproof sheet seemingly from nowhere to lay down on the carpeted floor. On top of that go the four pumpkins.

Then there’s the array of knives and other carving tools. Spoons for scooping out guts. A little boring tool. Vegetable peelers for god-knows-what. And bowls to place the waste in. Come to think of it - remove the gourds and add the bleach Sasha also has and she’s also prepared to commit a murder and dispose of the body.

Martin picks up a knife. Then he puts it down and chooses a bigger one, since if there’s large knives on offer he’s absolutely going to use one. He tests the edge of it with his thumb - not hard enough to cut into flesh, but enough he can feel how sharp it is. It’s good. Sharp enough to give a close shave. Certainly enough to dismember a pumpkin.

The spanner in the works is, of course, thrown by Jon.

He turns up late. Sasha already has her pumpkin mostly hollowed out, although Tim and Martin are lagging somewhat after Martin cut far too small a hole in the top of his pumpkin (although that might be his fault for choosing the smallest one to begin with, but it was just so _round_ ) and couldn’t get anything inside it to scrape it out.

There’s a single pumpkin left - a smaller one, but slightly oblong. Taller than it is wide. Instead of taking it, Jon pulls something out of his bag.

“What,” Sasha asks, “is that?”

“It’s a turnip.” Jon replies.

“Why did you bring a turnip to pumpkin carving?” Sasha asks.

“Because before the Americans came up with the idea of carving pumpkins, the British carved root vegetables like turnips and swedes.” Jon says.

“So you’re going to carve a turnip.” Tim says.

“Yes.” Jon replies.

“Because it’s more traditional.” Tim says.

“Yes.”

“Well I wish you luck.”

Jon picks up a knife and everyone turns to their own vegetables. Martin manages to get his pumpkin hollowed and cleaned out, so he decides it’s time to make a start on the eyes. It is probably more satisfying than perhaps it should be to stab a knife into the orange orb. The flesh of the gourd is thick though, and difficult to saw through. In fact, the knife ended up fairly lodged in it after he stabbed it and it doesn’t budge much when he tries to push on it to extend the cut. So repeated stabbings might be a better approach.

Another few carefully placed jabs of the knife and Martin has two little triangular holes cut out for eyes. They don’t look right though. Too simple. Too sloppy. But now that there’s holes, it’s easier to get a blade in there and carve it to shape.

His efforts just make it rounder. Make it cute. He looks around. Looks at the others.

Jon is still working on hollowing out his turnip, and his progress appears to be slow. Sasha is doing something incomprehensible with a peeler. She’s certainly carving, but Martin can’t recognise what it’s supposed to be yet. Tim is already done with his - triangular eyes and a jaggard mouth - and is working on hollowing out the spare.

Martin makes a small hole for the mouth. Another little round thing. It - well, it doesn’t make it look any scarier.

“Aww, look at that cutie.” Tim says. “And your pumpkin is adorable too.”

“It’s not supposed to be _cute_!” Martin says.

“I’m sure it will be very fearsome when it grows up.” Sasha says solemnly.

Martin rolls his eyes. He’s half a mind to smash the thing, but the idea of that does make his chest hurt slightly. It is cute, he can admit it.

“Look, do you want to have another go with this one?” Tim asks. “Assuming Jonny-boy is happy with his turnip.”

“I am.” Jon says curtly. “Martin can have it.”

Tim passes the spare pumpkin off to Martin before he can protest and at that point he might as well carve it. He tries to go for more oblong eyes this time, because in his opinion triangles don’t look great and circles, as proved, only turn out as cute.

Jon hisses and all of them turn to look at him.

“What did you do?” Sasha asks.

“The knife slipped. I’m _fine_.”

“Jon,” Martin says, “you’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine.” Jon says.

“Let me see.” Martin says.

Martin holds his hand out expectantly enough that Jon just places his own in it. The cut is on the left hand and while it doesn’t look too bad (it’s not going to need stitches), it is certainly bleeding profusely.

“Yeah, that needs a plaster. Carry on guys, I’ve got this.” Martin says to Tim and Sasha . “C’mon Jon.”

“Maaaaartin.” Jon says, but he lets Martin haul him up by his wrist.

“Don’t complain, or he won’t kiss it better.” Sasha says.

“Do you mind if I finish this little guy while you play nursemaid, Martin?” Tim asks, pointing to the half carved pumpkin. 

“Be my guest.” Martin says, because he doesn’t really care that much and Jon is a far more important priority.

The first aid kit has gone from decently stoked to very well stocked since the incident that caused Martin to start living here. An all-out bandage is probably a bit much for a finger injury (and a sling definitely would be, even if the option is there), but he has a choice of different brands and shapes of plaster. Including those weird butterfly ones that are meant for fingers that Martin’s never worked out how to put on.

He’s not sure exactly how messy hollowing out a turnip gets, or how clean the vegetable was when Jon started, so Martin grabs and tears open an antiseptic wipe first. Jon winces as Martin wipes his wound down, despite how gentle he tries to be.

“I’m not a child, Martin.” Jon says.

“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t help you.” Martin says. “Now, do you want a fabric plaster or a waterproof one? Or a teletubbies one?”

Jon shoots him a look at the last part of the offer, but he doesn’t speak up about it. “Waterproof.” He says.

Martin selects the appropriate plaster and opens it for Jon. The other man could do this himself, but Martin’s lived alone long enough to know that it’s far easier if someone helps you. It’s hard to judge how tightly to wrap it, but Martin thinks he gets it right.

“All done.” Martin says.

“I thought you were going to kiss it better?” Jon says with mirth.

“I thought you weren’t a child.” Martin replies.

Jon pouts and Martin can’t help ducking down to peck him on the lips.

“That wasn’t my finger.” Jon says.

“No.” Martin says. “No it wasn’t.”

Then he leans in to kiss Jon again. Jon’s mouth under his is far better than the cool plastic of a plaster. It isn’t a long kiss, but Jon does get the time to wrap his arms around Martin and give him a squeeze.

“Okay?” Martin asks when Jon breaks the kiss, early enough that Martin doesn’t have the time to act on the temptation of something steamier. With all four of them here together, and on their own time (which so rarely seems to happen anymore), it’s sinfully tempting to slide his hands down the back of Jon’s trousers and make a private bet on how long it would take to get all four of them out of their clothes.

“Just wanted a kiss, nothing more.” Jon says. It’s not explicit, but Martin can easily read that as ‘nothing more than kissing, please.’

He does give Jon a little peck after that (and receives one in return), but then they walk hand-in-hand back over to the others.

“Done making out?” Tim asks when they head back to the carving station. “I finished this little guy.”

Tim turns the carved face of the pumpkin towards Martin. Its oblong eyes are still there, but now it has a grinning mouth with a little tooth. There’s also a few more small holes below the eyes which Martin suddenly realises are freckles.

“You made this one cute too!” Martin says.

“You must be cursed, Martin.” Tim tells him. “Anything made by your hands is infallible in its adorability.”

“Where’s my knife?” Jon asks as he sits back down.

“Where’s mine?” Martin asks. “I think I need to stab Tim.”

“Have a spoon.” Sasha says. “Your knife privileges have been revoked.” She turns to Martin “as have yours for that comment.

Jon takes the spoon Sasha proffers. He picks up his turnip, but it’s already clear that he won’t be getting any further wielding that implement. He tries to jab the handle into it a couple of times to no avail.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Jon says.

“You’re a smart boy, I’m sure you’ll work it out.” Sasha tells him.

“Better do it quick boss, ‘cause everyone but Sasha is done.” Tim says.

“No, I’m done too.” She says

Martin looks at Sasha’s. It’s… Something. But he can’t tell what. It’s not just a clear cut out like the ones Tim and Martin made. Sections of the wall have been carved thin so that it will glow with different levels of brightness once there’s a light inside.

“No offense, Sasha, but what is it?”

Sasha fishes her phone out of her pocket, switches it to flashlight mode and illuminates the inside of the pumpkin. The thinner sections glow yellow, and the thicker ones a more orange-red. All at once the meaningless shapes coalesce into a picture.

“Headless horseman.” Sasha says.

“That’s bloody fantastic.” Martin says.

It is. The rider is holding his head under his arm, its face twisted into a snarl. There’s frenzy in the horse’s eyes and it’s apparent it’s been caught in full gallop, the strain of its muscles clear despite the fact it’s a still image.

“Thanks.” Sasha says. She turns to Jon. “You can finish up your turnip while we get these babies into a bleach bath to stop them from rotting. I think that’s hollowed out enough that a tea light should fit in it.”

Jon looks again from the spoon in his right hand to the turnip in his left. Then he puts the spoon down and removes a marker from his pocket. He draws a small frowning face on the root vegetable.

“You know what, I think I’m done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Sasha wins the pumpkin carving competition, receiving a small plastic trophy and a box of chocolates.  
> -Jon's entry was disqualified before judging could begin.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene was meant to 2 pages tops. Then I went 'you know what would fit in here? Smut."
> 
> CW:  
> -Discussion of safewords as sex turns kinky at the spur of the moment  
> -Manhandling and light bondage  
> -Double penetration  
> -Brief mention of Martin having dysphoria centred in the fact that he has no sensation in his strap on.

“Is he recording?” Is the first thing Tim asks when he and Sasha come back from lunch.

“Don’t think so.” Martin replies.

Honestly, he’s a little peeved not to have been invited. But, eh, happens sometimes. (And as he later learns, they were at ‘Polish’ place a few streets away that Martin’s expressed his distaste over several times now, because those things they claim are pierogies very much are not.)

“Great.” Tim says, and he knocks.

“Yes, Tim?” Jon asks. Tim always knocks with the same little rhythm and as a result Jon can always pick up when it’s him that’s knocked. Actually, Jon’s downright intuitive with working out who’s on the other side of his door, getting it right some ninety-five per cent of the time. There’s even been times when he’s called people in before they have the chance to knock, which Jon chalks up to recognising people’s footfalls.

Tim opens the door, but he doesn’t step inside. “So, Sasha and I have just come up with the best idea ever over lunch.” He says.

“No.” Jon replies.

“Archives sleepover.” Sasha says, unperturbed.

“Absolutely not.” Jon says.

“And why not?” Sasha asks.

“You can’t sleep at the office!” Jon says. “Elias would-”

“You have.” Tim points out. “And Martin is living here at the moment. Clearly Elias doesn’t care what we do down here.”

“All four of us might be pushing it a bit.” Jon says. “And that cot doesn’t sleep two unless you’re on top of each other.”

“Look, do you want to leave Martin alone down here on halloween?” Sasha says. “‘Cause that’s when we were planning it for.”

Jon frowns, and Martin wants to stamp his foot and say this isn’t necessary because he’s not a child who needs coddling. He’s been down here for months and can survive a whole host more nights, even if one of them happens to be halloween.

“I suppose I can clear it then.” Jon says.

“It sounds fun, really,” Martin says, “but you guys don’t have to do this for me.”

“Marto, we want to do this.” Tim says. “Unless pushing into your space isn’t something you want, in which case, _sorry_ , and we won’t bring it up again.”

“I don’t mind,” Martin says, “I just don’t want you guys to feel obligated about hanging out with me. Besides, I’m sure you have better things to do than hang out with me.”

There are things that happen on halloween. Trick-or-treating. Parties. Celebrations Martin won’t be leaving the Archives to attend. It’s not fair to block the others from going to those. Of having some actual fun.

“Not really…” Jon says quietly.

“You’re talking like you don’t know how to have fun.” Sasha says. “We can order some food in, play some games-”

“Flaunt the rules about alcohol at work because no one’s around to stop us.” Tim injects.

“If you’re sure…” Martin says.

“You know, both Tim and I own double air mattresses.” Sasha says. “So while it might not exactly be a _proper_ bed, we can still have all four of us. Together.”

“Who knows what we might get up to.” Martin says.

“I have some ideas,” Tim says, “if you want a demonstration. A practice run, if you will.”

Martin doubts he needs either a demonstration or a practice. He’s had Tim in his bed enough times without that.

“Can you manage it without two double air beds though?” Martin asks.

Tim walks over to Martin with a grin. He slips his fingers into the two front belt loops on Martin’s trousers and reels him in. Then, when Martin’s nice a snug against Tim’s front, he slips a hand between the two of them and pops up the button on his trousers.

“Why don’t you let Tim take your trousers off and you can find out.” Sasha hollers.

“Are we doing this, then?” Tim asks.

He’s thankfully chosen to shove his hands down the back of Martin’s trousers rather than the front (not that Martin would complain). But there is something poking Martin in the thigh that wasn’t there a minute or so before.

“I’m afraid I have some rather pressing work matters to finish.” Jon says.

“We can wait for you, if you want.” Sasha says.

Jon shakes his head. “You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s not a big deal.” Tim says. Then he glances down a moment. “Well, I mean, it’s _big_ , but I’m a grown up boy who doesn’t need instant gratification.”

“I meant not today. For me at least.” Jon says. “I’m not in the mood for sex.”

“That’s okay.” Martin says. “If you don’t want anything-”

“Go have fun, the three of you.” Jon says before Martin has the chance to call the whole thing off for his sake. “Just try to keep it down while I’m working?”

“I’m sure I can find something to gag Tim with if he starts getting mouthy.” Sasha says solemnly.

“Oi!” Tim shouts, but Jon is already nodding and closing his office door.

“C’mon boys.” Sasha says, and she takes Tim’s wrist in one hand and Martin’s in the other and starts walking them towards the cot.

“Eager are we?” Tim says.

“Careful, darling,” Sasha replies, “I really wasn’t joking about that gag.”

They stop in front of the cot. It’s unmade from this morning and the pillow still holds an indentation when Martin’s head tends to go. Sasha arranges Martin and Tim to stand in front of it, then she sits down between them and looks up.

“Clothes off then.” She says.

Sasha watches, critically, as Martin and Tim strip down. Martin’s quick about it - the last time he tried to do a strip tease he tripped getting out of his trousers and ended up with a busted nose - but Tim isn’t. In fact, by the time Martin is naked, Tim only has his shirt undone and is slowly pulling his belt through the loops on his trousers.

“Do hurry him along, Martin.” Sasha says.

“Yes ma’am.” Martin says, and he manhandles Tim out of his shirt. Martin sends a downward glance to check that Tim’s button and fly are undone (they are) before grabbing a rough fistful of fabric on Tim’s left and right thigh and roughly pulling down.

“Okay, okay!” Tim says, and he pulls the rest of his clothes off with a speed that might rival Martin’s.

Tim’s nice to look at naked, and he knows it. He’s not built like a body-builder, but there’s a fair bit of muscle to him, and his cock’s pretty too - particularly when it’s all hard and pink like it is now. Martin doesn’t really know why Sasha would want to look at him too when she’s got the sight of Tim’s body to feast on, but Martin knows it isn’t just Tim’s naked flesh she’s drinking in.

Tim steps in close, right up so that Martin can feel his breath on his cheek. And he stays there, lets Martin angle his head and catch Tim’s lips. There are hands in Martin’s hair, and they tug on it just like he likes. In return, Martin runs his hand down the planes of Tim’s chest and along his stomach, seeking blindly until he bumps up against Tim’s cock. Martin wraps his fist around it, but he only gets a single stroke up before Tim is breaking the kiss to groan.

“ _Very_ nice.” Sasha says. “Now-”

“Who said you’re calling all the shots?” Tim says, turning to face her with his hands on his hips.

“Well, I assumed-” Sasha says.

“Oh, you assumed did you?” Martin says.

“I-”

“She’s being quite bossy, don’t you think?” Martin says to Tim.

“You’re right.” Tim says. “I think we’d better put her in her place.”

Tim steps forwards and this time it’s Tim taking Sasha’s wrists. He lifts them up above her head, pushes her down and pins her wrists into the mattress. She goes along with it without anything resembling a fight.

“Are you okay with this?” Tim asks.

“I think so.” Sasha says. “Depends on what _this_ is.”

“We pin you down, take your clothes off. We might get a little rough with you.”

“I can like it rough.” Sasha says. “Traffic light safewords?”

“If you like.” Tim says.

“Are you likely to say ‘stop’ and not mean it?” Martin asks. “It’s important to know.”

“Probably not, but maybe? I probably won’t tell you to stop at all, and I’ll safeword if I want you to.” Sasha answers. “But I might struggle while you try to get my clothes off. More fun that way.”

“Will you now?” Martin says, and he grabs her right ankle.

Sasha shrieks and he can feel her try and kick, but his grip is too strong to break. Tim’s body shields him from her other leg and Martin pulls her shoe off.

“You need to stay quiet,” Tim tells her, “otherwise we’ll have to gag you. Jon’s working and you don’t want to disturb him.”

“You’re awful.” Sasha says as Martin divests her of her other shoe.

“We’re giving you what you deserve.” Tim says. “You can really get to squealing when I drop you on my cock. It’s a pity Martin doesn’t have his strap here, because I’d love to see what would happen if we made you take both of us at the same time.”

“Oh God.” Sasha says. Martin knows her responses well enough now to tell that she’s into that idea. That that’s just another way she says _please_.

“About that…” Martin says.

“You don’t!” Tim exclaims.

“Under the bed.” Martin confirms.

“You mean I can really have both of you at once?” Sasha asks.

Sasha tries to sit up as she speaks. Tim takes her by the shoulders and forces back down onto the cot. She gasps.

“Sounds like you’re going to have to take both of us at once.” Tim says. “Why don’t you have a think about which of your greedy holes you want us in the most.”

Martin reaches under the bed, drags out the bag he packed on the day he left his flat. His strap is still in there, in another smaller bag for protection. The straps aren’t that badly tangled, and he’s worn it enough times to get it on quickly. Before he fastens it up tight, Martin takes a moment to turn his bullet vibe on (and prays it has a decent amount of charge left to it).

It sits in a little pocket behind the base of the dildo he’s wearing and is pretty hard to reach when it’s on. It is honestly a little early in the proceedings to turn the thing on, but it would be awkward to stop and do it. And while it’s only a pleasant little buzz against him now, he knows from experience that it doesn’t get to really good until the base of the dildo grinds it into his cock when he’s fucking someone.

“Is that the only toy you have?” Sasha asks.

“Yes.” Martin says. “Didn’t exactly have the time to pack up the full collection.”

It’s a nice one. Realistically proportioned even if it isn’t an exact match for Martin’s skin tone. Not astronomically huge, but noticeably larger than what Tim is packing. Sasha’s taken this one before and she was vocal in her enjoyment.

“I was hoping to get both of you into my cunt at the same time, but that might be a bit unrealistic when you’re using a cock that big.” Sasha says.

“I could take your mouth while Martin fucks your pussy?” Tim suggests.

“Or you could take my arse while Martin takes my pussy.” Sasha says.

“Have you done anal before?” Martin asks. Sure, Martin and Tim’s arses have been throughly explored, and they’ve even opened up Jon a couple of times, but never Sasha…

“I have.” Sasha says. “I tried vaginal fisting one and it made me curl up and cry, so I think fitting both of you in there is very much not an option. But I’ve done anal before and I liked it.”

“I have lube too.” Martin says, helpfully removing the bottle from the bag at his feet.

“Perfect.” Sasha says. “Gameplan: Sasha sandwich with double meat.”

“Hey!” Tim says. “I’m the one who comes up with bad sex puns!”

“Yeah?” Sash says. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Martin,” Tim says, suddenly serious. “Help me get her naked. She needs to be taught a lesson.”

At his words, Sasha does muster up enough strength to break free from Tim’s grip, first sitting up, then moving forwards along the bed and away from Tim. But against two men she doesn’t really stand a chance. Especially as she doesn’t _really_ want to escape.

Martin moves to intercept her, catches one flailing arm, then the other. He twists her round to face Tim, her arms pinned behind her back.

“Thank you.” Tim says.

Martin knows Sasha normally wears a cardi or jumper, at least for the morning commute, but most days, and today is no exception, she deems the Archives warm enough without one. So the first thing Tim is faced with is the buttons of her blouse.

He undoes them one by one. Martin peers over Sasha’s shoulder to watch as her skin is uncovered. It really is a nice view of her cleavage from here. The grip Martin has on her doesn’t really stop her from moving her torso, so Tim has to duck and weave a bit to get at her buttons, but when she tugs against Martin’s grip on her arms it stays firm. She isn’t going anywhere.

When Tim gets the blouse all the way open, he whistles.

“Is she good?” Martin asks.

“You’re well fit.” Tim tells Sasha.

“Don’t rip anything as you get it off me, please.” Sasha says.

“We’ll be gentle.” Martin says.

“You better not be!” Sasha replies.

Martin has to let go of her arms to pull her blouse off entirely, and as soon as he does she’s fighting to get away again. So he pitches her forward and Tim helps by pinning her bodily down onto the bed. It still takes some manhandling to get the sleeves off her, but soon enough Martin is dropping the blouse onto the floor.

Tim still has Sasha pinned facedown by her shoulders, so Martin takes the time to fiddle with the band of her bra until he undoes the catch there. He takes a moment to stroke up and down the smooth expanse of her back.

“Okay, up we go.” Martin says.

He loops his arms under Sasha’s armpits and Tim stops holding her down. Martin drags her up and off the bed.

Of course, like this, Sasha’s arms aren’t restrained and she crosses them over her chest. Even that isn’t enough to stop Tim from peeling her bra off. Once he’s thrown the device over his shoulder, Tim grabs onto Sasha’s arms and forces her to reveal herself.

“Still okay with this?” Tim asks

“Yeah.” Sasha says.

“Do you want me to hold your arms while Tim touches you?” Martin asks.

“Please.” Sasha says.

Tim passes Sasha’s arms off to Martin, and he folds them behind her back. She isn’t really struggling against him now. Martin rests his chin on her shoulder to watch what Tim’s going to do to her.

Sasha confessed once that pinching or even biting her nipples isn’t that much of a turn on, but a gentle touch can get her properly wet. Tim uses that to his advantage now, first cupping her breasts (not without a gentle squeeze, mind) and then stroking soft circles over her nipples with his thumbs.

It doesn’t take long for her to fall apart. She moans, and Martin can feel her hips shift. Tim leans down to kiss her, and she meets him halfway in a messy hungry thing.

When Martin lets her arms go, she keeps them in place, probably without even thinking about it. She’s a little distracted right now. Much as Martin would also like to get a handful of Sasha’s tits, from the soft whining sounds Sasha is making, it seems like Tim has that sorted. Instead, Martin runs his hands down the soft expanse of her stomach until he finds the waistband of her skirt. He slides a single finger beneath the fabric and slowly begins to run around the waist band until he finds a fastening.

It’s on the left-hand side. A little zip. Martin grabs the tag and pulls it down before Sasha can realise what he’s doing.

The sound of the zip is loud enough to startle Sasha and she quickly catches on to what Martin’s up to.

Her hands are suddenly out from behind her back and she’s grabbing at her skirt in an attempt to stop Martin from taking it off her. It’s not going to be successful.

“I think I’m going to need some help, Tim.” Martin says.

“Right-o.” Tim says, and he closes his hands over the fists Sasha is making.

Tim must have superior strength, because he’s just able to pluck Sasha’s hands up. He reaches behind her, dragging her arms back with his, and hugs her into his chest. It leaves her pretty much immobilised from the waist up.

Sasha wiggles, but it only serves to get her more across Tim’s lap than the bed. Her legs overhang the edge of the cot, but she’s angled in a way that she can’t get her feet flat on the floor. Martin has to stand and move to get to a good position to get the rest of her clothes off, but Sasha is defenseless in this position.

The skirt isn’t going to make it over her hips unless it’s unzipped more than it is, so Martin takes a moment to tug the zipper the rest of the way down. Once it’s undone, there’s more than enough room to slide it off and down.

“There’s already a ladder in your tights.” Martin informs Sasha.

“There is? Where?”

“Right here.” Martin runs a finger along the upturned back of Sasha’s thigh, where a long ladder stretches from knee to about an inch below the waistband. His fingertip leaves goosebumps in its wake. “Just so you know I didn’t do the damage.”

“Noted.” Sasha says.

“Good.” Martin says.

Martin hooks his hands into the waist of her tights and pulls the rest of her clothing - tights, panties, and all - off Sasha in a single smooth motion. Or he tries to at least. It turns out that getting tights off requires a lot more pulling than Martin anticipated, the fabric sticking to her legs and rolling into rings on her limbs. It’s not made any easier by the way she thrashes, and by the time he’s got them down to her ankles, Martin is a good two feet away from Sasha, holding onto the waistband while the feet are still stuck on her.

He gives the tights another few tugs, trying his best not to laugh as he struggles to get them off. On the bed, Tim is snickering at Martin’s efforts. Martin half expects the tights to rip with how much force he puts on them, but they suddenly give and slip off.

Finally she’s bare. All three of them are bare.

“Okay, should I let you up now?” Tim asks.

“Not gonna lie, I’m really enjoying being held down.” Sasha says.

“That’s okay, we can keep doing it while we get you opened up.” Martin tells her.

“What do you think will work best for the next part?” Tim asks Martin.

“Facedown on the bed, arse in the air.” Martin replies. “We can hold down her back and head. Maybe her legs too.”

Tim tips Sasha off his lap. “Get to it. You can be good for us, can’t you?”

“Yeah.” Sasha says, and she gets into position, kneeling on the bed and placing the single pillow under where her head rests. Martin expected her to put her hands up by her head so that she can brace on them, but instead she folds them into the small of her back, where Tim and Martin kept pinning them as they stripped her.

Tim climbs onto the cot beside Sasha. “I’m going to put one of my knees on your back, between your shoulders, and press down.” He tells her. “If it’s too heavy, tell me, or click your fingers if you can’t get enough air.”

“Can you pin my hands down too?” Sasha asks.

“Do you want them tied?” Martin asks. 

“That would be good.” Sasha replies.

Martin goes over to his little pile of discarded clothes and picks up his tie. He hands it to Tim to do the actual knotwork. Only one of them was in the Scouts and it sure as hell wasn’t Martin.

Even from where Martin settles, down by Sasha’s feet, it’s obvious that Tim doesn’t bind her tight. That Sasha could probably tug her wrists free if she really wanted to. But she doesn’t want to. She’s going to be good for them.

“Can you click your fingers like that?” Tim asks.

Sasha snaps her fingers a couple of times at Tim’s request, to prove she has a safeword if it gets to the point where she can’t speak. Tim places a careful knee on her back. Martin can tell it’s not bearing all his weight.

“Is that enough pressure.” Tim asks.

“Yes.” Sasha replies. “I can breathe okay too. I can take a bit more if it comes to it, but here’s good.”

It’s odd to see how relaxed she is with this. That she’s restrained, the risk to her air being cut off if Tim felt a little meaner, but she just sinks into it.

“Legs a little further apart, please.” Martin asks, and he runs the back of his hand up her thighs.

Sasha’s legs part as Martin nudges his hand up between them. She shivers a little when Martin rubs at her clit. More when he slides a finger into her. He gives her a few little thrusts of his finger and adds a second when it becomes clear how easily she’s taking it.

“You really did like being stripped like that.” Martin comments.

“I did.” She says.

“Is she wet?” Tim asks.

Martin takes his fingers out and brings them up for Tim to inspect. His digits are shiny with slick. Predictably they end up in Tim’s mouth.

Martin draws his fingers out of Tim’s mouth slowly, lets the pads of his fingers drag across Tim’s lips. He looks so good like that that Martin has to lean in to kiss Tim, to taste Sasha on his tongue. Tim takes him by the hair, desperate, and when Martin pulls away Tim just makes a wet trail across Martin’s jaw and down the column of his neck with his tongue and teeth. He holds Martin fiercely when he tries to move away a little.

“Uh, Tim?” Martin says. “Can I get to the lube?”

“Sorry.” Tim says, but he lets Martin go. “I got a little distracted.”

“Sure you did.” Martin says. He wonders how many purple marks are going to be on his neck tomorrow.

Now he’s free, Martin reaches over for the lube. The cap clicks as he opens it.

“Uh, boys?” Sasha says. “No switching back and forth between holes, okay?”

Basic hygiene, Martin knows. Technically hygiene he practices himself, but he’s not in the habit of sticking much of anything up his cunt, regardless of whether it’s been in his behind first or not, so it tends not to come up.

“Anything that’s been in your arse won’t go into your pussy.” Martin confirms. “Tim, can you reach to finger her from there? You can take her back while I do her front?”

“Think so.” Tim replies. He leans forward and checks he can reach down the length of Sasha’s body without shifting his weight too much. “Yeah, that works. Lube me up.”

Martin drizzles lube over Tim’s fingers. Then, because he doesn’t remove his proffered hand, Martin gives him a big dollop in the centre of his palm too. That seems to satisfy Tim. He rubs it over his fingers to get it spread and warm, and lets part of the dollop just plop onto Sasha’s skin - his aim isn’t perfect though, it’s a couple of centimeters away from Sasha’s tight little hole.

Martin takes a moment to apply a little lube to his fingers too, before leaving it conveniently close to Tim’s free hand in case he needs to reapply. Sasha’s probably wet enough without it, but it never hurts to add a bit of extra slick. Especially when the amount of friction on the toy he’s going to fuck her with doesn’t matter to him.

By the time Martin is ready to put his hand back between Sasha’s legs, Tim is already working the first of his fingers into her. He pushes it in in increments, drawing back every now and again, and with each movement Sasha’s breath hitches.

“Does it feel okay?” Martin asks.

“It would feel better if you paid some attention to my clit. Just a hint.”

Well, he can take that hint. He sets his thumb to slowly roll over her clit and slides a couple of fingers into her cunt. She’ll need a little more stretching before she takes his strap, but there’s plenty of time. It’s not like Tim is going to be in a rush opening her up.

A few minutes later and Sasha is taking the whole length of Tim’s finger with ease, gasping from the attention her two boys are paying her. Martin could work a third finger into her now, but he holds off. He looks up to see if Tim needs a helping hand, but Tim is pulling himself off in slow steady strokes. Just enough stimulation to keep him rock hard.

“Ready for a second finger?” Tim asks.

“Sure.” Sasha says.

Working a second finger into her arse proves to be quicker than getting the first in. It’s still not a gentle slide in, but the space of time from its initial entry to Tim scissoring her open isn’t that long.

It’s about this time that Sasha’s moans begin to pick up. She starts clenching down around Martin far more regularly and Martin knows she’s doing the same to Tim. Her hips keep twitching like she doesn’t know if she wants to drive herself down on their hands or tug away.

“Close?” Martin asks.

“Yes.” Sasha hisses.

At that, Martin draws his fingers away from Sasha’s clit, although he does keep up the motion of the ones inside her, in fact, he finally adds that third finger he’d been planning to. It goes in with ease.

Sasha whines. Martin expected that.

“You can have an orgasm when Tim’s got three fingers all the way into you.” Martin says.

“ _Martin_!” She says.

“You can be patient for us.” Tim tells Sasha. “You’re doing so well.”

Tim probes around her rim with a third finger for a moment, but he must decide she’s too tight, because he doesn’t push it into her. He begins to scissor her open a little more efficiently - it’s odd, but Martin can actually feel it. Can feel the slide of Tim’s fingers in her back hole when they touch up on the wall of muscle separating the caverns the two of them are exploring.

“Please Tim…” Sasha says some minutes later.

It’s not the exact words of what she wants, but Tim can parse her meaning. Tim adds a little more lube to his fingers, but this time, after spreading some of it over Sasha’s rim, he pushes all three fingers in. He fucks her with them, slow, but relentless, sinking deeper with each thrust.

Martin watches, entranced.

“Martin!” Sasha prompts, and Martin realises his hand has fallen still in his distraction. “You promised.”

“Sorry, love.” He says, and he dutifully picks up his pace.

But she’s right. Martin did make a promise and Tim is three fingers deep in Sasha. She’s owed an orgasm.

Martin twists his thumb round so that he can get it on Sasha’s clit. It takes a couple of minutes to work her back up to where she was, but a few moments after that all the muscles in her thighs tighten, then she’s clenching down in waves on Martin’s (and presumably Tim’s) fingers as orgasm takes her.

They both finger her through the aftershocks until her breathing evens back out.

“Okay?” Martin asks. “Think you’re ready for us?”

“I think so.” Sasha says. “I might need a minute or so, though, and I’m going to encourage Tim to go slow.”

“Can do.” Tim says. “It’s going to take a moment or so to work out how we’re going to achieve this on this tiny-ass cot.”

“Let me up?” Sasha says.

Tim takes his knee off Sasha’s back and gives her the room to get up. She takes a deep breath and pulls herself up onto her knees, difficult without her hands, but Tim’s already behind her and pulls the tie off her wrists.

“You could have left that on.” Sasha says, sounding a little put out.

“I think you’re going to need your hands to brace for the next bit.” Tim says.

“What have you got planned?” Sasha asks.

“We get Martin to lie down and you get on top of him. That way I get a good angle and can work into you slowly. Once I’m all the way in and you’re comfortable, we can find a position where both me and Martin have the leverage to fuck you properly. Sound okay?” Tim says.

“Sounds good to me.” Sasha says. She turns to Martin. “Okay by you?”

Martin nods, scooting himself up the bed to lie down if he’s going to be the bottom layer of this samwidge. Sasha lets him have the pillow.

Sasha straddles his hips. She grabs the dildo sprouting proudly from Martin’s crotch and pauses for a moment. The little action is enough to remind Martin that hey - there’s a vibe right by his cock. And as soon as Sasha climbs aboard and starts pushing the base of the toy into him it’s going to feel _very_ nice.

“Hey, this thing vibrates?” Sasha says. She must be able to feel the slight tremor of the vibe echoing up through the toy. “I didn’t realise that.”

Martin shakes his head. “There’s a bullet by the base for me. Won’t be a particularly wild ride I’m afraid.”

Sasha snorts. “For me, maybe.” She angles the toy ready to take it and the shift it makes against Martin makes him gasp.

She slides down it slowly, her hands braced on Martin’s shoulders. Martin does his best to stay still and whines as Sasha takes what’s offered to her. When she’s fully seated, she leans forward and kisses him.

Martin lets her ravage him. He doesn’t have the leverage to thrust from this position, but that’s okay because all he wants to do is feel that sweet grind, and that’s simple enough to achieve. He doesn’t even need his hands on her hips to guide her, that’s how in sync they are, so he opts instead to get his fill of those lovely tits, since Tim was hogging them earlier.

“Ready?” Tim asks.

Over Sasha’s shoulder, Martin can see Tim rubbing lube up and down his erection. In fact, it already looks pretty well spread by the time Martin’s eye’s focus on it, so Tim must be enjoying the show.

“Go for it.” Sasha says.

Tim crowds up behind Sasha, and Martin knows when he’s started to work his way into her from her little gasp. Tim puts his hands on Sasha’s hips and rocks her the way he wants as he fucks into her with shallow, slow strokes. He’s right to - his cock is much longer than his fingers are and no matter how well prepared Sasha is for this, she did say it’s been a while. Still, the movements Sasha makes serve to push on the base of the dildo, and in turn Martin’s little bullet vibe, right into Martin’s cock. Safe to say, he’s into it.

(There is a part of him wishing it was his own flesh and blood cock root-deep into Sasha right now, if only so that he could feel Tim’s dick through that thin wall in the same way he felt Tim’s fingers earlier).

In fact, Martin might be getting a little too into it, as Tim’s thrusts get nicely rhythmic and Martin’s keening, his orgasm hitting out of nowhere. It’s a long one, a strong one too. 

Then it brims over into aftershocks and over-stimulation. All electric signals from nerves too wrought out to figure out if they’re sensing pleasure or pain. As the bottom layer in this three-person pile up, Martin has no hope of escape, no chance of pulling Sasha off him for a moment’s relief, so he just has to grit his teeth and bear it.

He has to pull his lips away from Sasha in his effort not to sob. She reaches up and brushes away the tears Martin didn’t realise were brimming in the corner of his eyes.

“Okay?” Sasha asks.

Martin nods. “Just came.” He says. “Just a little sensitive now.”

“We’ve got you.” Sasha says. “We can change position if that might help.”

“Do you think you’re ready?” Tim asks. He’s been giving Sasha his full length for the last few minutes, as far as Martin can tell, so the answer is probably yes.

“I can take a pounding.” Sasha says.

“Up we go then!” 

Tim pulls Sasha up and off Martin’s body. Without her on him, it is a little easier to breathe. It isn’t that he’s wiped - not yet anyway, but Martin didn’t realise how much he really needed this tonight until he came. He’s mostly recovered from that first, powerful orgasm though, so he follows his two lovers as they shift on the bed.

“So how is this going to work?” Martin asks. The more sets of legs involved in sex, the harder it is to position everything.

“Depends,” Tim says “do you want to stay on your back or flip so that I’m going in from under?”

“Do you think it will work if Sasha mostly stays upright on her knees?” Martin asks.

Sasha spreads her legs a little and Tim slips in behind her. Martin thinks he can fit in front.

“Like this?” Tim asks. “Or-”

“Would you two stop debating logistics and just _do_ me?” Sasha says.

Tim laughs. “Sorry babe. We’re just making sure it’ll work like you want.” His eyes trail from Sasha to Martin, and then back again. He nods to himself. “I think we can ‘do’ you now.”

Tim angles himself, then he’s grunting a little as he seats himself inside Sasha. Martin edges in, slides between Sasha’s open legs. She’s already open and wet for him. Possibly the prettiest pink pussy Martin’s had the pleasure to view. And the dildo is already slick from her when he grabs it to guide it inside her.

Tim puts his hands over Sasha’s hips, and once Martin is in her, he begins to slide back out. The snap of his hips as he thrusts back in drives Sasha down onto Martin’s strap. Belatedly, Martin begins to fuck her too, matching Tim’s hard and fast pace, albeit on the off beat, so that he’s driving into Sasha when Tim is pulling out of her.

With Tim’s hands on Sasha’s hips, Martin ends up holding her around the ribs. The two of them hold her steady while they fuck into her in a frankly brutal way. She bears no complaints though craning back to briefly kiss Tim, before resting her forehead against Martin’s when it becomes apparent that both her boys are concentrating on railing her a little too much to get into a good snog. Sasha snakes one arm over Martin’s shoulder, and the other one dives down to rub at her clit.

Her moans get louder, each one short and sharp like the air is getting punched out of her with each thrust the two of them make. Maybe it is. Martin sees the sheen of sweat on her brow as her head snaps back, and she’s coming. He knows that face. Seen it enough times before.

“Keep going.” She tells them before either Martin or Tim has a chance to ask if she needs a rest.

“Fuck Sash!” Tim says. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll last.”

“I want you to make me come again.” Sasha says.

It might happen. Tim gives it his all and Sasha’s back to moaning again pretty soon. But Martin also knows Tim. And, well, _knows_ him. Tim’s a considerate lover and always likes to get his partners off first, but there are limits to a man’s stamina, and Martin can see Tim rapidly approaching the limit of his.

Safe to say, it’s only a matter of time until Tim comes.

Martin is proved right only a few minutes later when Tim’s rhythm falters, and he groans aloud as he comes. He manages a few more thrusts before it’s too much and he slips out of Sasha.

“Damn, girl…” He says. His eyes fix on Martin. “Give her hell for me.”

“You still want it hard?” Martin asks Sasha. “Want it rough?”

“Please!” She says.

Martin gives her sly smile, and then he bawls her over into Tim’s waiting lap.

She goes down pretty hard, but Tim’s there to catch her, to wrap his arms about her shoulders and keep her in place. Martin manages to stay in her, but he takes a moment to pause, hiking her legs up and apart. Sasha’s breath comes in quick, shallow bursts, although whether that’s from shock or excitement is anyone’s guess.

Then Martin drives into her with all the force he can muster, his hips snapping harder and faster than before. It’s tiring, to be honest, but he knows he won’t have to keep this up for long, because Sasha’s already squealing along with it.

He isn’t doing too badly himself, each thrust angle to grind the vibe into his cock. It’s amazing it’s battery has lasted this long, although it’s certainly weaker than it was when he first switched it on. It doesn’t matter though, because he’s still going to get off with or without it.

Tim’s hands come down to paw at Sasha’s tits. A few gentle strokes across her nipples and she’s gone. The sight of it is wonderful, and Martin tips over the edge of orgasm after her, feeling his cunt spasm.

Then there’s a moment of stillness as both of them try to catch their breaths. Sasha winces as Martin pulls out. That’s the thing with rough sex - Martin is sure she’ll be feeling it tomorrow. Although, with how hard he’s just given it to her, he expects to have his own share of muscle soreness tomorrow.

“So, a practice run, was that?” Martin says.

“Just think of what we’ll manage with a bit more space.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's halloween and time for some trick-or-treating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> -Tim mentions he has engaged in pet play before, and that's where some of his costume has come from.  
> -Sasha says something to Martin that could be taken to be transphobic (although she did not intend it that way)

Martin is used to being the first person at work in the morning by now. He didn’t used to be - too prone to pressing snooze on his alarm - but he lives at work now. It is a little strange this morning to be taking off one pair of pajamas and putting on a different one. But it’s halloween today and no one is going to be dressed normally.

Ghost curls up in the abandoned pile of Martin’s clothes, ready to leech the warmth out of them. She’s turned out to be a real lap cat and spends most of the night curled up by Martin’s pillow when she hasn’t got middle-of-the-night feline business to attend to.

He didn’t have the time or resources this year to buy or make a costume, but when Martin packed up his flat, one of the things shoved into his suitcase was a onesie. More specifically, a cat onesie. If anything, he can say he was inspired by their new pet. He doesn’t even know why - it’s not like he’s ever worn the thing.

It still fits, despite the fact Martin is sure he’s put on weight since it was bought. How long ago was that? Five years? Seven? He’s always been a bit too embarrassed to wear it, but today’s the day.

It’s a black onesie with a large white patch across the chest and stomach. The fabric is thick enough that Martin’s probably going to end up a little toasty in the Archive’s carefully climate controlled environment. But it has a hood with ears and a little tail. And he might be able to borrow some eyeliner from Sasha to do a nose and whiskers.

So yeah, he’s a cat.

Jon doesn’t have a concrete start time in the mornings, but usually he gives himself a little extra time if he worked late the night before. And since he was shut up in his office until around midnight last night, Martin isn’t expecting to see him until maybe half past nine. Or maybe a quarter past. But probably not before nine itself, as opposed to the mornings after days when he left ‘on time’ when he tends to be in on the dot of seven, because Jon is apparently the sort of mad-man more commonly known as ‘a morning person’.

Sasha doesn’t show at quarter to like she normally does, but Martin can chalk that up to bad traffic. It happens sometimes. Once she ended up over two hours late when her tube line closed unexpectedly and the buses stopped picking people up when they got full from all the extra commuters.

Tim does turn up at five to nine as usual. He says “morning” to Martin, hangs his coat up on the pegs by the door, and Martin just stares.

Tim also appears to be a black tuxedo cat - he’s got ears on his head and a white patch on his chest. But it is there that the similarities between his and Martin’s costumes end.

“Oh.” Says Tim. “Snap. Archive’s got three cats today.”

Tim has a fair amount of leg out. Scratch that - Tim has pretty much all of his legs out, and his stomach and arms too in a top Martin can tell Tim cut himself. The bottom edge is fraying in an uneven line two to the three inches above Tim’s navel. Upon closer inspection, the large white patch on the front is felt, the bottom of it peeling up from where it’s been stuck to the black fabric beneath.

Then Tim turns around and Martin gasps because his shorts are cut short enough that the bottom edge of the back pockets are hanging below the hem. They’re tight too, and Tim does have the kind of arse that deserves to be shown off.

He’s got a tail too, black with a little white poof at the end, attached to a belt looped around the shorts.

The shorts might look fantastic from behind, but Martin doubts they fit properly, mostly from the fact Tim hasn’t been able to button them at the front. Martin shakes his head as the image of peeling those shorts off Tim with his teeth comes to mind.

“Is it too much for work?” Tim asks. He does look slightly self-conscious now that he’s seen Martin’s dressed in something suitable for a kid going into Reception. 

“Eh, I don’t think we have any Statement givers due to come in today.” Martin offers, because he’s not sure of the politically correct answer there. “If you’re really shy we can find a blanket for you to sit under.”

“I had some other shorts, but they were a bit too tight across the front, if you catch my drift.” Tim says. “I don’t think it’s proper to let people know how big my dick is before I know they’re interested in seeing me without my underwear on.”

“You had a back up to parts of your outfit?” Martin says. That’s a fair amount of forethought.

“I’ve dressed as a cat before, just toned it down for work. One of my exes was into pet play, so…” Tim says with a shrug. “Slutty cat has been my go-to halloween costume for a couple of years - I already had all the things I needed for _other_ reasons. And you’ve got to look your best to have a shot at going home with the hottest person at the party.”

Martin is silent for a moment. If that’s ‘toned down’ he has a vested interest in what full-blown sex kitten Tim dresses like. Or un-dresses like.

“What?” Tim says. Like Martin might judge him for taking part in a niche kink. Like they’ve never explored some rather niche kinks themselves.

(If Tim asked, Martin wouldn’t be opposed. He’d risk a couple of bites to scratch Tim’s belly right now.)

“Nothing.” Martin replies. “Just thought you’d aim higher than going home by yourself.”

Tim snorts. “Not too much then?”

“Twenty five degrees.” Martin says, after a little contemplation.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“That’s how far you can lean over before it becomes criminal for someone not to smack your arse.”

“Martin! I-”

The door opens and that shuts Tim up. Jon appears from the other side of it, and Martin’s hopes for an interesting costume are dashed as Jon takes off his coat to reveal his usual bland trousers and his favorite jacket - the tweed one with leather elbow patches.

“No costume, Jon?” Tim says.

“I thought we were all going to dress up…” Martin says softly to himself.

Jon pauses for a moment. He looks at both of his boyfriends. The cogs turning behind his eyes as he tries to find a way to assuage their disappointment are almost visible.

“I-” He begins. “I am an insomniac.”

“Is that a fact or your costume?” Tim asks. His eyebrows are making a break for his hairline, but Jon stands firm in his explanation. Tim shrugs and walks towards his desk. Then past it to Martin’s and he picks up Ghost from where she’s decided to take a nap on Martin’s recently vacated chair.

“Does that mean I have to bring you coffee this morning instead of tea?” Martin asks.

“Don’t even try it.” Jon growls.

“An insomniac with three cats. I thought about getting her a kitty costume, but I don’t think she’d tolerate it.” Tim says. “She’d look cute with bat wings on.”

“She’d look cute in anything.” Martin says. “Cute and probably grumpy.”

He walks back over to them holding the damn cat like he’s going to recreate the opening of the Lion King. Ghost doesn’t even look phased. She’s turned out to be a total attention whore and will tolerate a fair amount of manhandling in return for cuddles.

And she gets a lot of those. Sasha, Tim, and Martin all treat her like a baby and she spends her time rotating between their three laps when Jon decides not to hog her to himself. He’s definitely the favourite, and he’s smug about knowing it.

Tim passes Ghost over to Jon, who immediately cradles her like an infant and starts cooing at her. She even lets him rub her tummy, and Martin is not jealous in the slightest, despite the fact he’s ended with claw marks up and down his arms when he’s tried to do that in the past.

“I think we need a photo!” Tim says.

Martin clasps the two of them and pulls them into frame for the photo - one arm around Jon’s shoulders, the other decidedly lower on Tim’s body. Jon looks up just in time for the camera flash of Tim’s phone to catch his face. It ends up a bad photo as a result, Jon’s eyelids halfway down in a blink. Tim snickers, but he quickly snaps a better one.

“Satisfied?” Jon asks. He extracts himself to get to his office, but there’s more than a hint of a blush on his cheeks. Apparently Jon enjoys the attention of a couple of pretty kitties.

“It’ll do.” Tim says. At Martin’s prompting, he tilts his phone screen so that Martin can see the photo. “Don’t you know it’s mean to pull a cat’s tail, Martin?”

“Pretty sure my hand’s not on your _tail_.” Martin says. He gives Tim’s arse a squeeze before letting go.

The photo’s a pretty good one, in Martin’s opinion. Tim’s taken it from above, angled so that it shows the three of them from face to ankle. And even Jon is smiling in it.

“Send that to me?” Martin asks.

“Sure.” Tim replies, and a few seconds later there’s a ping from Martin’s phone as a notification goes off.

“The _festivities_ ,” Jon says with a slight sneer, “aren’t due to start until after lunch, so I’m expecting at least half a day’s work from the two of you.”

Jon shuts himself up in his office to record after that. Martin and Tim’s chatter doesn’t exactly stop, but it does die down as the two of them get to work. Sasha is still a no show at ten o’clock, and Martin’s about to ask Tim if he’s heard from her, because it’s getting worryingly late for her, when she finally arrives.

Her coat, rain splattered, gets hung up next to Tim and Jon’s. Underneath are normal clothes. The jacket and trousers are off-brand from her usual cardi and skirt, but nothing too unusual. Certainly not a costume.

“You’re not dressed up either!” Martin says.

Jon comes out of his office shockingly fast, and even before he can open his mouth, Martin knows it’s to gloat. It’s plain on his face.

“And now I’m not the only one.” Jon says.

“I am dressed up.” Sasha says.

“Really? What are you supposed to be then?” Martin asks. Maybe she’ll have a better excuse than ‘insomniac.’ Technically that’s not even a costume for Jon - it’s his day-to-day.

Tim has a huge grin on his face, so Martin knows something is up. But in her tweedy-jacket, tan trousers, and sensible shoes Sasha just looks-

Startled as he catches on, Martin looks from Sasha, to Jon, then back again. She doesn’t have the leather patches on the elbow, but aside from that, her outfit is impeccable. Even her tie matches Jon’s. Suddenly, Martin realises both what the photo earlier was really for and why Sasha is so late.

“I’m dressed for the job I want instead of the one I have.” Sasha says.

* * *

Sasha turned out to have an eyeliner pencil in her purse. She seemed a little doubtful that Martin would be able to wash it off that much easier than pen, but she handed it over all the same.

“Do me and I’ll do you?” Martin says to Tim.

“You know I’ll do you any time you like.” Tim says with an eyebrow waggle.

Martin chooses to ignore that and hands the pencil over. “You better make these whiskers symmetrical.”

Tim gives him four even lines on each cheek, and fills in the tip of his nose too. Then he hands the pencil back for Martin to do the same for him. Looking in the mirror after, it’s clear Tim had a steadier hand than Martin did, but privately Martin decides Tim’s look better that way.

“Aren’t the two of you cute.” Sasha says when they’re done.

“You know,” Martin says, “we could give you a bit of scruff with this. Something that would live up to Jon’s beard.”

“That’s really not necessary.” Sasha replies.

“C’mon, Sash,” Tim says, “the more blatant it is that you’re dressed as him the funnier it is.”

“Do I have to?”

“ _Yes_.” Both of them say.

“Give me my pencil back!” Sasha steps in towards Martin, but he just knows she isn’t planning to draw on her face. So before she can make a grab for the stick, Martin swipes a couple of short lines down her cheek.

Sasha screeches and slaps a hand to the affected area. When she draws it away again, it isn’t even smudged and Martin comes to a sudden realisation about how hard this stuff is going to be to get off. Fuck.

“Now you have to let us do it!” Tim says with glee.

Sasha relents, presenting her cheeks. “You’re awful, you know.” She says. “You’re ganging up on me! This is bullying! You’re like two characters in a sitcom.”

“Where’d that come from? A sitcom?” Tim says. “About what, a slutty cat and his flatmate?”

“Plot twist: I’m the slutty cat.” Martin says. “Everyone thinks you’re the slutty one, but you’ve just got an aesthetic that you’re dedicated to.”

“You go out every night,” Sasha begins, “but it isn’t to the bars or clubs. You’re out, searching for the love you lost three years ago.”

“A tragic accident parted us.” Tim continues. “Or so the police concluded. But I suspect foul play…”

“You return to our flat early each morning, sometimes catching my latest conquest on their way out.” Martin says. “But I feel empty inside. All these other cats could never satisfy me when all I want... is _you_.”

“But you can never tell him,” Sasha says, “because he’s still hung up on his previous lover-”

“-And I know the truth!” Martin says. “But I can never say a thing and risk tarnishing her reputation.”

“You know she faked the entire incident and ran, leaving me to believe she was dead.” Tim says. “And finally the truth outs - that you knew she was hiding a terrible secret from me.”

“But I wasn’t sure what.” Martin says.

“And that’s the plot up to the first season finale.” Sasha concludes.

There’s a pause for a moment before all three of them break down laughing. During the improvised plot-line, Tim and Martin have managed to give Sasha a reasonable-looking beard. Or a comically bad one at least.

Martin takes a step back to admire his and Tim’s handiwork. It doesn’t look realistic, but that’s the point of it. He wouldn’t go as far as saying it suits Sasha, but she can definitely pull it off.

“You know what you need?” Tim asks, and Sasha shakes her head. “A little Jonathon Sims name plate.”

Sasha snorts. “That would be great. Do you think I can steal his glasses too?”

“Maybe his spare pair?” Martin says. “If we can get him out of his office for long enough. Jon’ll need distracting.”

“I volunteer you, Martin.” Tim says.

“I’m sorry!”

“He _is_ least likely to think you’re up to something.” Sasha points out.

“Well what am I supposed to do?” Martin asks. “Tell him there’s been a printer jam or something? He’d never go for it.”

“Tell him you found something that might be useful in the deep Archives, but it’s too fragile to be handled lots, so he has to go to it.” Tim suggests.

“Then keep him there with your feminine wiles.” Sasha adds.

“My _feminine wiles_.” Martin says flatly. He’s pretty sure Sasha didn’t mean it like _that_ , but...

“They live up to Tim’s, but if you’re not sure I can probably come up with something genuine in there if you need it.” Sasha says.

“Or you could find a topic that will make him info-dump. Or just go for a heart-to-heart.” Tim says. "No _seduction_ necessary." He eyes Sasha as he comes up with a more appropriate word for what she wants him to do.

Sasha pulls Martin aside and shows him a document in the deep Archives that she’d been saving ‘for a rainy day.’ The paper it’s on is thin enough to almost be translucent and the ink is long since faded. Sasha pulls on gloves to touch it and tells him skin oils may be detrimental to its survival.

It certainly looks like it could be real. The context of the thing seems fair - a diary extract from the mid sixteen hundreds written by a woman who claimed her husband was infested with maggots. It’s close enough to worms to be interesting. Close enough to Prentiss.

Sasha lays the thing out on a little reading pedestal. Tim slips a couple of packets of lube into Martin’s hands with a wink before Martin can go and see Jon. It is at this point that Martin discovers his outfit has no pockets. That hasn’t happened since he started wearing clothing from the men’s section. He ends up tucking the packets into the waistband of his underwear, which takes a little wiggling to do without taking his whole onesie off.

“It’s a little early for tea.” Jon says when Martin knocks on his door (and it is - Martin makes his rounds of tea like clockwork, and the next one is not due for another 40 minutes.)

“It’s not tea.” Martin says. “I’ve found a statement - I guess - that might be useful.”

“Give it here, then.” Jon holds out his hand expectantly.

“Oh! It’s super old. Sixteen forties, I think, and I didn’t want to risk damaging it by bringing it out of the deep Archives.”

“I suppose I can find some time for it later this morning.” Jon says. He doesn’t dismiss Martin, just turns back to his work.

“I’ve already got it out- had to to vet it - and it’s honestly not good for it to be out of proper storage for too long.” Martin says. “So unless you’re urgently busy right this second...”

Jon sighs, but he gets up. “I suppose I can at least see if it records digitally.” He says.

Martin smiles, although he keeps most of his outright grin off his face. Jon walks out of his office, and Martin follows. Tim gives him a surreptitious thumbs up as they go. Sasha is already wearing a little cardboard nameplate stating that she is Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist.

Jon finds the appropriate section of the deep Archives without Martin having to tell him where to look. He scans the first few lines on the page and nods to himself. Then he sets his phone to record.

Martin steps in close to Jon. Close enough that their arms brush and their pinky fingers are touching. Both of them are careful not to touch the paper itself.

“Statement of Elizabeth Witherford regarding… the desecration of her husband. Original Statement given twenty third June, sixteen forty seven. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.”

Jon reads the first paragraph before pausing the recording. He plays it back and his voice comes back crystal clear. Not all corrupted like it does with some. With the real ones.

(They haven’t confirmed that yet, even if Martin knows. Even if Jon knows, deep in his gut, even as he spouts denial.)

“That’s a pity.” Martin says.

Jon shrugs. “I suppose I can do the rest of it later.”

It hasn’t been that long, so further distraction may be necessary. He has no idea how easy Jon’s spare glasses will be to find. Martin doesn’t mind though. He lets his hand slide over Jon’s in its entirety and gives Jon his best sexy smile.

“Uh, Martin?” Jon says. “Are you okay?”

“What?”

“You’ve got your ‘planning a murder’ face on.”

Okay, so maybe his sexy smile needs work.

“My- this isn’t!” Martin takes a deep breath. “I was thinking of kissing you!”

“Oh! I, uh…”

Jon stands on his tip-toes and gives Martin a peck.

“Not good enough.” Martin says, and he chases after Jon. “You’ve hurt my feelings.” He says against Jon’s lips. “I demand a thorough apology.”

He kisses Jon deeply then, and Jon follows along, letting Martin’s tongue into his mouth to slide against his own. Martin wraps his arms around Jon and relishes in the press of Jon’s body against his.

They neck for a few minutes, getting bolder in their explorations, before Jon pulls away from where he’d been sucking at Martin’s earlobe to say “I’m starting to think you brought me in here with ulterior motives.”

“Never.” Martin lies.

Jon kisses him again then. Martin’s body is thrumming like a livewire. His entire body feels like it’s heating up, and most of that heat is pooled between his legs. God he hopes Jon is in the mood to get him off, although if he’s not this can just be a tease for later.

Martin’s hopeful, though. He can feel the hard line of Jon’s erection pressing against his thigh, and that’s usually a good sign. Sometimes Jon doesn’t get aroused when he’s not in the mood for sex. Other times he might, but he’s in a habit of not pressing said arousal against other people when he doesn’t want to do anything about it. Helps with the mixed signals.

Still, their positioning and height difference means Martin’s unable to grind along Jon’s hard length. He’s left wet and wanting between the legs, right up until Jon slides his thigh up snug against Martin crotch.

Martin grinds down on it gratefully. Then he does it again, because it just feels so good. And after that his hips move on autopilot, smooth rolls on Jon’s legs as he chases an orgasm that comes shockingly quickly only a couple of minutes later.

He grabs onto Jon’s shoulders as he comes, the feeling surging and becoming abruptly too much as his cunt clenches rhythmically. Martin drags his hips away with a start.

“That was quick. And here I thought it was the other cat that looked to be in heat.” Jon comments. “Where’s the zipper on this?”

“At the neck. Sorry about-”

“Don’t be.” Jon says, as he reaches and tugs the zipper down. “I like making you come.”

Jon pulls the warm fabric off Martin’s arm, and without the support the whole garment drops into a puddle at Martin’s ankles. Jon snorts at the sight of the two packets of lube tucked into the waistband of Martin’s briefs.

“Oh _sure_ , this wasn’t planned at all.”

Martin shrugs, caught but not guilty.

Jon slides his hand into Martin’s underwear. He avoids Martin’s packer (because he knows Martin just finds it weird when someone tries to jerk it off - that’s his flaccid dick. He has other prosthetics for a hard one), skirting under it to run his fingers over Martin’s cock.

Martin hisses. In pain, not pleasure. Jon does it again and it only gets worse, with Martin whimpering and drawing away on instinct.

“Stop. Stop.” Martin says, and Jon’s hand is out of his underwear in a flash.

“Everything okay?” Jon asks, even though it clearly isn’t.

“It hurts.” Martin says. “Really sensitive all of a sudden. I just had a T shot yesterday, so…”

So it probably isn’t related to the fact he’s just had an orgasm. Or at least not entirely due to it. Hopefully it won’t last long and he’ll be able to _perform_ later on tonight.

Jon steps back. “Okay.” He says. “Okay.”

Jon’s face is flushed and he’s still straining in the front of his trousers. Martin reaches out before Jon can get entirely an arms-length away, and he brushes his hand a few inches to the left of the thick bulge at Jon’s crotch.

“Do you want me to…?” Martin says.

“But you don’t want…”

“I want to get you off, Jon.” Martin says. “Even if I can’t handle being touched back right now.”

“The tables turn.” Jon murmurs.

“So can I?” Martin asks. “It would be a shame to put this lube to waste.

Jon nods, and that’s all the permission Martin needs. He opens the fastenings to Jon’s trousers and slides his hand inside to cup the bulge he finds there. It’s nice and meaty in his hand, although Martin is familiar enough with it by now to tell that Jon isn’t fully hard yet.

Martin steps in close and pulls Jon’s trousers and pants down to his thighs. Then he wraps his fist around Jon’s cock and Jon moans as Martin begins to rub him to full hardness. Once satisfied, Martin lets go and drinks in the sight of Jon, flushed and hard for him.

“I want you naked from the waist down, if not fully, with your hands up against that bookcase over there, and your legs nicely spread for me.” Martin says.

Jon complies, toeing off his shoes and stripping down to skin eagerly. Martin can’t help but think he might get cold, but then again, Martin’s here to keep him warm.

Martin opens one of the packets of lube and coats it on his fingers while Jon makes a neat pile of his clothes. All of his clothes, Martin notes with glee. Then he braces himself against the bookshelf Martin pointed to earlier.

Jon starts when Martin trails a slick finger between his cheeks. His head connects lightly with the bookshelf as Martin rubs a fingertip around his rim.

“Okay?” Martin asks.

“Very.” Jon says.

Martin pushes in, lets the tip of his finger breach Jon. He was planning to take this fairly slow, but Jon angles his hips and pushes back until Martin’s finger is seated in him in its entirety. He draws his finger back out and pushes it in again another few times, listening to Jon’s raggard breath.

“If I make you come now, will you still be able to come later?” Martin asks.

“Later?” Jon echoes, like he has no concept but the present right now.

“You and me and Sasha and Tim.” Martin says. “A couple of air mattresses. Plenty of room to fuck. We haven’t had that in a while.” Not since Martin started living down here…

“How long- _oh God_.” Jon chokes on his question as Martin adds another finger. Martin can still parse his meaning though.

“Ten hours or so.” Martin says as he finds Jon’s prostate and rubs against it slowly.

“M-Martin.” Jon says. “Please.” There’s clear fluid dripping from his cock now, untouched though it is.

“So can you manage it?” Martin asks.

“Yes, love!” Jon says.

“Of course, I could just not let you come now.” Martin muses. “I could leave you hard and desperate until later.”

“No!” Jon cries. “I want to come. Please let me come!”

Martin leans in close, runs his tongue along Jon’s neck to feel the salt on his skin. There’s purpling marks there too, ones Martin didn’t leave there himself, but he adds his own set.

“Ask nicely enough and I might consider putting my hand back on your cock.” Martin says.

He punctuates his words by rubbing ruthlessly on Jon’s prostate. Not hard enough to be too much, but enough that Jon clenches down around him as he does.

Of course, Jon could just reach a hand down and take care of himself. But that’s against the unspoken rules of the game they are playing. Right now, Jon gets to come under Martin’s hands, and Martin’s alone.

“Please Martin!” Jon cries. “Please touch me, I- _oooh_. I’m going to come.”

Martin hums inquisitively against the side of Jon’s neck. He hasn’t touched Jon’s cock yet, but the other man is already shaking. Just like he does when he’s on the brink.

“Go on.” Martin says.

It’s all the permission Jon needs. His semen splatters on the wood of the bookcase and a moment later all the energy he was holding in his trembling muscles dissipates as he relaxes.

“I didn’t know you could do that.” Martin says, as he withdraws his fingers.

“I’ve managed it on my own before.” Jon admits. “Just never with anyone else.”

Jon kisses him sweetly, and Martin makes sure his dirty fingers don’t go anywhere they shouldn’t. He suspects both of them are going to need a trip to the bathroom after this, but the Archives itself only has a single unisex toilet, so they’ll have to take turns.

Jon does at least manage to produce a couple of tissues as he redresses, one for Martin’s hand and the other to take care of the come slowly dripping down the bookcase.

They come out of the deep Archives together. Tim waggles his eyebrows when Jon heads to the bathroom instead of his office. Technically, he could just need the loo, but Martin wouldn’t be surprised if they heard at least some of what went on between the two of them. The walls are thick down here, but they aren’t _that_ soundproof.

“Did you get them?” Martin asks when Jon is out of earshot.

Sasha holds up a glasses case, then opens it up and removes the glasses inside. They’re on a long chain, which she hangs around her neck.

“Martin,” she says in a sing-song voice, “my dear Martin, Jon’s glasses aren’t even prescription.”

* * *

“We’ll need to go in two groups, I suppose.” Martin says.

There’s no set lunch time at the Institute, but the canteen is open for hot food from twelve until two. Today, though, no one is taking a late lunch, because Elias has promised the entire staff the rest of the afternoon off, provided they all partake in celebrations. Said festivities start at two.

“I’m not taking part.” Jon says. 

“I don’t think there’s a choice there, boss,” Sasha says, “people are going to come down here for their treats.”

Jon’s face twists at the thought of visitors. A strange thought, because it’s not as if people don’t come down into the Archives for research. They host their fair share of guests, even if Jon doesn’t always strike the most welcoming figure.

“I’m not sure I should go traipsing ‘round the building.” Tim says, although he sounds pained at the thought. “I’m not exactly dressed in a safe-for-work manner.

“You’re hot stuff. There are very few people I’d rather see in that outfit.” Sasha says. “Bet you the first pick out of my sweets that there are some other people dressed in a similar fashion.”

“I’ll think about going up.” Tim concedes.

“You can take Jon with you when you do.” Martin says. “If he’s not joining in then I say we share his spoils.”

“Hey-” Jon says, but the others are all murmuring in agreement.

“Wait, who else do you want to see dressed like this?” Tim suddenly asks.

“Jon, ‘cause he’d just sulk about it.” Sasha says. “Pretty much everyone else is a celebratory. I’m allowed to have a bucket list, you know!”

“So long as you come home to the three of us.” Tim says.

“Always.”

* * *

“Who the fuck gives out toothbrushes for halloween?” Sasha says for about the fifth time.

“Our accounting department, apparently.” Martin says. “At least Elias was giving out something boozey.”

Champagne chocolates, all individually wrapped. Left in a bowl outside his closed office door with a sign saying ‘Take one, I _will_ know’ mind, so some of the effort might not be there. In fact, Martin wouldn’t put it past Elias to have put the job of buying the things off on some underling.

They’re on their way up to Artifact storage, the last in a reasonably long line of places to hit up. They’ll need some pretty stellar candy to beat out Rosie’s handmade cookies, or the full-sized twixes research was handing out.

Artifact Storage has a little trestle table out, with several offerings out. There’s a tub of celebrations, a big one, but the only thing left in there is bounties, so Martin leaves them be. There’s also a bowl of mini kit-kats, and a biscuit tin with little iced biscuits shaped like dogs. They look charming and homemade, so Martin picks one.

Sasha has a bit of a natter with some of her old co-workers, although she keeps glancing over her shoulder towards Martin. She glosses over the treats offered by Artifact Storage and leaves empty-handed.

“Where’dya get that?” She asks as they leave.

“They were giving them out at Artifact storage.” Martin replies. “There are plenty left if you want one.”

Sasha gives him a funny a look, but she doesn’t say anything. Not like she doesn’t believe him, but almost like she’s trying to decide whether or not to tell him something.

“What?” Martin says.

“Nothing. Nothing.” Sasha throws her hands up, the picture of innocence.

Martin stops and taps his foot. He crosses his arms and gives her a look that says ‘I’m not moving until you tell me what that was about.’ He does his best not to pout, because he’s heard time and time again that that look is just cute on him, and _cute_ is not what he’s going for here.

“Look, if you’re brave to eat something out of - sorry, from Artifact storage, then I can’t fault you. Out of interest, did it come out of a tin with a picture of cows on the lid?”

“I-” A tin, yes, but Martin never caught sight of the lid.

Sasha shrugs. “Well, if you want to eat it, I guess I can’t stop you.”

“What’s this going to do to me?” Martin asks.

“Oh, nothing.” She says. “...Probably.”

“Anything you’re willing to trade?” Martin asks. He tries to reach for her sleeve, but she just brushes him off. “C’mon, Sasha!”

Sasha doesn’t respond. In fact, she doesn’t even seem to register that Martin’s said anything at all. If this were part of her jest (or worse, her not-a-jest), Martin knows he’d be able to tell, but it’s like she’s suddenly a million miles away.

“Sasha!” Martin says.

“What?”

“You blanked a bit there. Just wanted to know if you wanted to trade anything?” Martin says. “Y’know, for this apparently cursed iced biscuit.”

“I am always a slut for maltesers. I’ll adequately dispose of it for a packet.” Sasha says. “Sorry, I’m just a little distracted.”

Not the trade he really wanted, but it will do. It gets the wretched thing off his hands at least. Sasha will know what to do with it to ensure it is properly taken care of.

Martin hands her the biscuit, and a packet of maltesers out of the little pumpkin-shaped baskets Sasha had turned up with this morning. Personally, Martin thought they were a little bit of an overkill, but he’s also living for it.

“Are you okay?” Martin asks.

“Yeah, yeah.” She says, brushing off Martin’s concerns. “Is there anywhere we haven’t hit up yet?”

Martin considers for a moment. They started at the reception, said hello to Rosie, then took the lift to the top floor and worked their way down.

“We’ve hit everything that isn’t on the ground floor, and basically no one works down there except Rosie.”

And he knows she’s not the only receptionist, but she’s the one who’s there the most often and she always says hi in the morning when he comes into work. Or she did when he used to actually commute in in the morning. Martin has a stark realisation that Rosie is also almost certainly on the short list of people who know that Martin is living here now.

“What about the cafeteria?” Sasha says. “They’re probably giving stuff out there.”

That’s… actually very likely. It would be the place to serve anything that’s being provided to all employees from the Institute itself. It’s probably a better offering than the halloween-themed menu they offered on the thirty-first last year, which mostly consisted of bangers and green-dyed mash.

Sasha’s right, because of course she is. The cafeteria is busy, but not enough to be crowded like it gets during the lunch rush. There’s free tea and coffee (overly bitter, but Martin’s not going to turn down a cup of tea, even if it is served in styrofoam) and the food ranges from toffee apples to cupcakes with spooky designs to fun sized chocolate bars.

It’s fair to say that Martin’s dinner tonight is going to be entirely sugar. Or wait- there was something about ordering in pizzas. Maybe it will all be his dinner tomorrow then. Or breakfast.

Martin mingles a bit, finds a few old co-workers from the library to chat with (and one very confused external researcher who did not know this was happening today) while Sasha disappears to chat with a few more old friends.

It’s nice to be social. It’s pretty rare he talks to anyone outside of his direct co-workers anymore.

Not everyone is in costume, and those that are haven’t always gone to extreme lengths with effort. There are more than a few people stretching what can be considered as ‘work-appropriate,’ so at least Tim won’t feel left out. In fact, when Martin goes over to where there’s a panel judging costumes, he sees one of the prizes is for sexiest costume.

There are plastic trophies and everything, although Martin’s pretty sure he hasn’t got a shot at winning any of them. Tim might snag ‘sexiest costume’ and Sasha might manage ‘funniest costume’ if her being dressed as Jon isn’t too much of an in-joke (and if they don’t weigh in the fact that she also won the pumpkin carving contest last week).

Sasha reappears some twenty minutes later, just as a woman whose face Martin knows (but whose name he cannot place) says as tactfully as possible: “There’s this rumour going around that there’s a cat in the Archives.”

Martin gives Sasha a little side-eye. “Are other people supposed to know about the cat?” He mouths, knowing full well that this conversation is not private. But it’s not like he can pull her aside without looking very suspicious.

“There is.” Sasha confirms. “Officially as pest control measures, but she is also my baby and I will defend her with my life.”

“She is very friendly if you want to go meet her - and our boss isn’t allowed to complain about it today since you can claim you’re there for trick-or-treat.” Martin says.

They leave shortly afterwards. There’s only so much moseying to do, so many bland pleasantries he can stand to exchange with people he’s only ever met in passing, and the longer he and Sasha stay up here, the shorter the time Tim and Jon will have to socialise. Which Martin is going to ensure happens, despite their various protests.

Martin is used to the narrowness of the stairs going down to the Archives, but it’s not often that he meets people coming the other way when he’s on them, and it’s an uncomfortably intimate experience to have someone squeeze past him on them, especially when their costume is rivalling Tim’s for modesty.

At the bottom of the stairs, on the door that separates the Archives from the basement rooms that are technically janitorial and miscellaneous storage, is a note in Tim’s very own scrawl saying ‘yes, we have a cat.’ That rumour appears to have spread further than Martin had anticipated.

There’s no non-archive staff inside when Sasha pulls open the door. A lot of tension Martin didn’t even realise she was holding bleeds out of her shoulders when she steps inside, almost like she’s glad to be home. Ghost is stretched out on Tim’s desk and her little mew as she sees them come in prompts Tim to turn his head. Martin walks over to give her a scratch behind the ears.

“She’s going to be such a brat after this.” Tim says.

“Hello to you too!” Sasha says.

“Have we had a lot of visitors?” Martin asks.

“Yes, but half of them only came down to pet her and left without any chocolate. Are pickings good elsewhere?” Tim says.

“Elias has boozy chocolate, and you don’t even need to interact with him to get them. So, y’know, best of both worlds.” Martin says.

“An old friend of mine in Artifact storage made these.” Sasha holds up the dog-shaped biscuit Martin managed to persuade her to take. He’s just about to warn Tim off them when Sasha bites the head off it.

“You told me those were cursed!” Martin cries.

“Nah.” She says through a mouthful of crumbs. There must be some guilt there, though, because she keeps focusing on a spot of wall over Martin’s left shoulder instead of on his face. She gives him an uneasy smile, her mouth packed full.

“I give you a packet of maltesers to get you to take it off my hands!”

“And it’s delicious. Thanks.” Sasha says. “Janet’s one of the best bakers I know and she always uses the same tin.”

“I have been betrayed.” Martin says. Tim gives him a sympathetic look.

“Look, you can have half.” Sasha concedes.

“I ate way too much on the way round.” Martin says sadly. A great cookie it might be, but he’s going to be sugar-sick if he eats it.

Sasha shrugs. “Your loss.” She says

“How many of us do you think it will take to drag Jon out of his office?” Tim asks.

“Have you decided to go up then?” Martin says.

Tim nods. There must have been enough people who came down here in similarly revealing clothes for him to feel comfortable at the idea. Martin’s glad. Tim’s a stunner and he shouldn’t be hidden from the world, especially when dressed like that. (As tempting as it is to lock him away where only Martin (and Jon and Sasha) can get to him, Martin trusts Tim. Other people can look, but there’s a very short list of people who are blessed enough to have him in their bed.)

“I’m going to drag Jon out to have some fun regardless of how much he complains.” Tim says. He sounds positively gleeful at the idea.

Jon ends up going up with only a minimal fuss, but that might be because the head of Research is there, giving the cat a belly rub, and Martin suspects that Jon is still somewhat scared of his old boss. Martin doesn’t blame him for it - the man looks like he could curdle milk by looking at it and it’s very strange to see him cooing over a kitten.

A few people do come down to the Archives, but Martin suspects Tim was subject to the brunt of the visitors. There’s enough of them that he and Sasha can keep up a steady flow of small talk and avoid doing any actual work. The number of kit-kats and mini-twixes that the others brought in goes down, but as Tim suggested, most people just want to see the cat.

There’s still a twinge of guilt looking at that bowl, and the offerings placed inside it by Sasha and Tim (with Jon making a begrudging offer to pay for what they bought so that it can come out of official departmental funds). But the days where he feels comfortable leaving the institute - feels safe doing it - well, there haven’t been many of those recently. It’s on and off when he can build up the courage to do it, and he’d never think to do it on his own.

“She’s going to be a right terror from now on, if this is the attention she expects.” Martin comments.

“Is it too late to rename her cuddleslut?” Sasha says.

“It can be her middle name.” Martin says.

A few people do come down, but it seems like most of the trick-or-treating has come and gone. Either that or only people who are determined to hit up every department are bothering to come down, despite the added lure of a kitten. Sasha leaves most of the small talk to Martin - which is fine, because he’s a pleasant enough conversationalist - but a little out of character, because she’s usually more social than this. Sasha is perhaps a little uncharacteristically tense, but then again they have been around to see half the building already, so maybe her social batteries are just recharging.

It should be a comfortable silence, both of them sitting on their phones waiting for Jon and Tim to get back. Instead, the tension grows thick enough to be scooped up and served atop pancakes as Sasha continues to stare at nothing.

“Sasha?” Martin says.

There’s no response. It’s not like she’s giving him the silent treatment for some unknown reason (and she _has_ given it before). In fact, it’s like she doesn’t hear Martin at all, not even when he calls her name another couple of times.

It’s only when he gets up and moves towards her that she startles.

“Sasha, is everything okay?” He asks.

“Yeah, I um-”

“Sasha…” Martin says. “Really? Are you alright?”

Sasha makes a little uneasy noise that doesn’t translate to a yes or a no. “I figured a while back that you couldn’t see it.”

“See _what_?” Martin says.

She waves a hand, tries to brush off Martin’s line of questioning when they both know she really shouldn’t.

“There’s been, what, over a hundred people trick-or-treating in this building over the last hour and a half, right?” Sasha says. “How is trick-or-treat normally played?”

“It’s not a game!” Martin says. “You just knock- _oh fuck_.”

Sasha grimaces, pulling air between her lips and clenched teeth in a little sucking noise. “I take it you’ve read some statements about doors too.”

Martin has. Yellow doors, normally. They can be dead freaky too, and they’re the sort of Statement that don’t record digitally too. 

And he tries not to read into that - the fact that some of the Statements just don’t record apart from when Jon does his thing with the tapes. But still. They’re always the ones where the follow up seems to be that everyone’s either just gone, or dead under freaky circumstances. The ones about Leitners don’t record either, and Martin knows for certain that something is up with them.

“Where is it?” Martin asks.

Sasha doesn’t say anything, she just juts her chin at a blank patch of wall over Martin’s left shoulder.

Martin whips around. There’s nothing there. Then he blinks and between one heartbeat and the next, the yellow door is there. Martin hisses through his teeth.

“You see it now?” Sasha asks.

“I do.” Martin says. He doesn’t take his eyes off the door. Doesn’t want to to give it a chance to slip away to somewhere else.

“It followed us around when we were upstairs, and it’s moved a couple of times since we were down here too. I made sure we never went into a room with only a single door so it couldn’t slide on top and trap us.” She says.

“It can do that?” Martin says. “Can it do that?”

They’re safe down here. Safe-ish, anyway. There may only be a single door and staircase up to the ground floor, but there’s a half dozen fire exits strewn around.

“I’m not sure.” Sasha says. “The Statements were never that clear about it.”

“What do we do?” Martin asks. “Why didn’t you bring this up earlier?”

“I wasn’t sure it was real.” Sasha says. “Or I didn’t want it to be real, so I did my best to pretend it wasn’t. That wasn’t hard because it kept vanishing after I spotted it.”

“We need to tell Jon.” Martin says. “God - it could have followed them upstairs, or…”

Sasha shakes her head. “I’m the one it wants. I think.” She says. “The Statements about this thing that I’ve read, well, a few of them I found when I was looking up stuff about that Micheal guy. I’m pretty sure they’re connected.”

“We need to _do_ something!” Martin says.

Sasha shakes her head. “This thing, he, it, well it’s patient. Plays mind games and lures you in. I don’t think it’s likely to attack us outright or anything.”

Martin looks back to where the door was, but it’s gone. Then there’s the creak of a hinge from behind him, and both Martin and Sasha whip around. The corkscrew Martin suddenly finds in his hands is probably woefully inadequate for what’s coming.

It’s just the normal door though, and Tim coming through it with Jon pretty firmly attached to his arm.

“So I think I might have sexiest costume in the bag!” Tim says.

“Someone stuck a fiver in his back pocket.” Jon says.

“Shouldn’t you go to HR for that?” Martin says. It’s not what he should be blurting out. It’s not the thing that’s causing him and Sasha to plaster frantic grins on their faces to pretend that everything is _fine_.

“It was someone from HR that did it!” Tim says with a laugh, then his face falls as he reads the room. “What’s happened.”

* * *

Tim and Jon can see it too, once Sasha has pointed it out. Jon looks slightly green around the gills, like he’s trying to find some memory in his head that there was always a door there. There wasn’t. And that fact is especially clear when it suddenly switches to be on the other side of the room.

“What do you think it wants?” Martin asks to no one in particular. It’s a question that’s been asked several times before.

“Why don’t you ask it?” Tim suggests.

“It’s a _door_. It can’t answer.” Martin says.

“It’s not just a door.” Sasha says. “I don’t think it can be.”

“Then ask it.” Tim says. “Or knock on it or something.”

“I don’t think that’s a good-” 

Jon falls silent as the door’s handle turns and the hinge makes a terrible groan as the door opens a fraction. Martin watches with his heart in his throat, but nothing comes over the threshold.

“I do not like that.” Jon says. 

“That it’s open now?” Tim says.

“Yes.” Jon replies.

“Should I close it?” Sasha asks.

She stands. Walks towards it. Martin can pretty much feel the blood drain from his face, and he knows Tim and Jon are similarly pale beside him. What’s worse is the arc Sasha takes to the door. She has to be able see what’s inside.

She doesn’t start screaming or fall down clutching her head, so it can’t be too horrific. Sasha reaches out a hand, and Martin’s got ‘don’t’ on the tip of his tongue, but she’s pushed it closed before it can make it’s way out of his mouth.

Martin half expects the door to shimmer and vanish. It doesn’t.

“Sasha!” Jon shouts. “That was extremely reckless and-”

“It’s okay Jon.” Sasha says. She walks over to him with her arms in the air. “I’m alright, no harm done, so don’t panic, please.”

“It could still have hurt you.” Jon says.

“Michael already had plenty of opportunity to hurt me. I don’t think that’s what it wants.”

“What does it want then?” Tim says. “We still haven’t got that far with that.”

“It’s a door.” Sasha says. “I think it wants in on the trick-or-treat.”

“So you’re just going to knock, are you?” Martin says. His tone makes it clear that he thinks that’s a bad idea.

Sasha shakes her head.

“And if you’re right and you don’t knock?” Jon says.

“Then I guess it wins.” Tim says.

“You can’t win at trick-or-treat…” Martin says, but no one seems to take any notice.

“We need to come up with a good trick.” Sasha says. “Something it won’t like, so that there are consequences if it screws us over.”

“Paint it a different colour?” Martin suggests.

“It could just move and then we’d have paint on the wall.” Jon points out.

“Superglue in the keyhole?” Tim suggests.

“It doesn’t have one.” Martin says.

The door opens itself again and this time the creak of the hinges sounds uncannily like laughter.

Sasha gets up to close it again, although she has to drop Jon’s hand to do it. “We could oil the hinges and stop it from making this awful racket.” She says.

The door closes itself in her face, quick enough that Sasha blinks, startled.

“I don’t think it liked that idea.” Tim says. “Oi, do you want your hinges oiled?”

The door appears to ripple, then it’s gone, the wall back to a neutrally coloured plaster. They don’t sigh in relief. It’s done this several times and it’s usually only a matter of minutes before it turns up again.

“What do we do now?” Martin asks.

“Find some WD40 and wait for it to show up again.” Tim says.

It doesn’t take too long for it to reappear, in the end. It’s some sort of eldritch monstrosity, and Martin knows that, he really does, but it’s still startling easy to dismiss the door as something that wants to play. 

(And he’s read statements of what this thing does. How it torments its victims. But maybe this is how it gets to you. Because it’s just a door, right? Except it’s not. He knows it’s not, but it’s easier to pretend it is, and that it’s harmless.)

Sasha walks up to it, open bottle of WD40 in her left hand. Martin was ready to draw lots on who got the role of knocker, but the barmy girl actually volunteered. Maybe, because Michael helped her before, Sasha thinks it has no reason to harm her.

Hopefully that attitude won’t get her killed one of these days.

The knock echoes.

“T-trick or treat?” Sasha stammers, her confidence wavering slightly.

She raises the can in her hand as the door creaks open. Wider than just a crack this time and Martin makes the snap decision not to turn away as the corridor behind it appears.

It stretched out into the distance, curving slightly to the right until the end of the corridor fades from view. That is if it even has an end. There are intricate-looking picture frames lining the wall, but Martin can’t see what’s inside them and he has no intention of coming close enough to find out. A thick shag rug in a pale pink that looks disturbingly like a tongue runs down the centre of the corridor.

It looks even more like a tongue when the rug wrinkles and spits forth a round plastic container. It rolls over the floor and Sasha steps back to stop it from resting at her feet.

“Thanks, I guess?” Sasha says, and she closes the door.

It vanishes. There’s a few moments while everyone just waits to see if it will reappear, but it doesn’t. That doesn’t mean it won’t be back, that it’s gone for good, but it is at least a temporary refuge.

“So.” Tim says after a few minutes. “What is that?”

Sasha covers her hands with the sleeves of her cardi. The container is shaped like a fish bowl, with a red lid screwed on top. She looks at the label.

“Gummy fractals.” Sasha says. “Or maybe gummy fractal singular. I’m not going to check. The ingredients are…” She checks for a second. “All E numbers. Anyone want one?”

The container is unsurprisingly sent straight to artifact storage without being opened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to those of you expecting Michael to show up, but I can barely keep four characters straight in my head, let alone adding Michael to the mix.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> -Drinking before a sex scene, however no one is all-out drunk and this is a pre-established relationship.  
> -Pegging  
> -Use of a cock ring

The air mattresses aren’t as good as the real thing, but they’re a darn-sight better than the cot is. All four of them can fit on the mattresses to start with, although Martin suspects someone is going to end up more on top of Jon than next to him. He’s always calmed down by being pinned down even if he can’t exactly put into words why that is.

The work day finished earlier than it usually does and they’re stuck in this nebulous time when the building is (presumably) empty but for the four of them, but it can’t really be called evening yet. After a brief argument over whether it’s a halloween film or a christmas movie, they put on ‘the Nightmare before Christmas.’ Or at least, it will be put on once everyone has had the time to get dressed down after work (which is apparently still a concept despite the fact they’re all in costume. Or at least everyone but Jon is in costume.)

Martin never really got out of pajamas this morning, so there’s nothing to change there, but he does manage to convince Jon to take off his tie and belt, then to unbutton his overshirt entirely, while Sasha and Tim disappear off to the loos. Kisses, it turns out, are the perfect form of bribe to bend Jon to his will. (In truth, Martin already knew that).

Jon is wearing an undershirt, so he isn’t deliciously bare-chested. Sasha is not wearing an undershirt or vest, and that’s plainly clear as she walks back over with her tie off and some half-dozen buttons on her shirt undone. Enough that her bra is plainly visible, a rich violet with creamy lace. Martin’s pretty sure it’s not the same one she’s been wearing all day, because as much as Sasha loves her so-called ‘pretty underwear,’ she claims it’s uncomfortable as hell to wear for a full day, so she only tends to put it on in a situation where it’s likely someone will end up admiring it.

It’s a nice view as she walks over to them, face washed clean of the shitty beard Tim and Martin drew on her earlier, but she quickly settles herself over Jon’s back with very little prompting - she doesn’t need it, she knows what her partners like. There will be plenty of time to get her shirtless later on. She doesn’t bother putting on underwear like that when she doesn’t want it to be seen.

It takes Tim a fair bit longer than Sasha to make his way back from the bathroom. When he does reappear, it’s in a different pair of shorts - these ones much stretchier and giving plenty of emphasis to what he’s packing in the front as well as the rear. The elastic waistband is probably much more comfortable than the too-small shorts he had before, but he’s also putting everything on display, so it wouldn’t have been appropriate for work. It’s not the only nsfw change to his outfit, because Tim’s wearing a different tail now.

This one is grey, not matching the black and white theme of his outfit. And instead of a belt, it disappears into a hole in his shorts. Martin has a good idea of how it’s anchored.

“Will you be okay sitting in that?” Sasha asks. “Or wearing it for longer than a short while.”

Tim hums. “I can sit.” He says. “And wear it for a couple of hours, although I’m presuming sex will be happening in the not too distant future. If people are amenable?”

He makes sure sure that question isn’t solely aimed at Jon, even if it kind of is. Jon doesn’t take offense though, he just answers.

“Not right this second, but I was under the impression that this evening’s plans were food, alcohol, and sex.” Jon says.

“Perhaps not in that order, though.” Martin says.

“Post-cotial pizza, then?” Sasha says. “And not too much to drink before.”

“I’d sleep with any and all of you sober,” Jon says, “so I don’t see the harm in a couple of drinks beforehand.”

“You were plenty eager earlier.” Martin says.

“Was he?” Tim asks, his eyebrows wiggling.

Jon groans, and he buries his head in one of the pillows. Martin reaches over to pat him gently.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It was very hot.” Martin says. He turns back to Tim. “I fingered him and he came hands-free.”

“Really now?” Tim says.

“Don’t get too excited,” Jon says, ‘“it doesn’t happen too often.”

“Oh, yeah, I also got painfully oversensitive earlier,” Martin adds, “I think I’ll be fine, but I might have to suddenly stop.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Sasha asks.

“It’ll probably be fine, but I might not be able to be touched directly. I have my strap though, so…”

“I brought mine too.” Sasha says. “I thought it might see some use tonight.”

“You did?” Martin says.

Sasha hums a yes and shuffles off Jon’s back a little to kiss him softly. The conversation dies after that as they settle down to watch the film. The two air mattresses are big enough for all of them to lie comfortable apart, but they all end up touching anyway - Tim pushes Sasha so that she lies across both Jon and Martin’s backs, and he takes a similar position half on, half off their legs, with his arm around Sasha. Martin finds Jon’s hand, fallen into the crack between the two mattresses, and clasps it in his own.

There’s only minimal shifting during the film itself, mostly to get to their phones. It’s not late enough in the evening that anyone’s at risk of falling asleep. Eventually, though, the credits roll and it’s taken as a cue to get up and shift, waking limbs in the process of falling asleep.

Martin wanders off to the loos afterward, and when he comes back Tim is committing the sacrilege of pouring out cider into the mugs more habitually used for tea.

“Couldn’t we just drink from the cans?” Martin says.

“Yes, but I didn’t think this through and it’s too late now.” Tim says. “Plus, there are four of us and a six-pack.”

That’s a lie - there’s far more than a six pack around to drink, but Martin’s pretty sure Tim means there’s a six pack to be drunk right now. As in before they fuck around.

“Like I’m afraid to share a can with anyone here.” Martin says. All of them swap spit on a regular enough occasion.

Tim manages to fit three cans into the four mugs before he hands them around. Martin lifts his to his mouth and takes a sip. Once his mug is lowered, he looks round to see everyone staring at him.

“What?” Martin asks. There’s a memo he’s missed.

“Never have I ever, Martin.” Jon says.

“Oh.” Martin says, looking down into his mug. The level is a little lower than the other’s now. “Well then, never have I ever shoplifted.”

“Lame.” Tim says. Probably because it’s not about sex.

Martin doesn’t expect anyone to drink at that, but Sasha knocks back a sip. “Wait, really?” He says.

Sasha shrugs. “I went through a phase of stealing make-up from Boots when I was about fourteen.” She says. “Uh, how are we working out whose turn it is?”

“Person to your left?” Jon suggests.

Martin shrugs, as do Tima and Sasha. It works. It also puts Jon as the fourth person to go, which might be deliberate, or might not. It is just possible he’s shite at thinking of things to ask and has placed himself like that to give himself as much of a buffer to come up with something.

“Never have I ever,” Tim begins, and he pauses a moment to think of something, “used a vegetable as a sex toy.”

“Jesus, Tim,” Jon says, “I thought you were meant to save those sort of questions for after we’d imbibed a bit more.”

Martin tries to use Jon’s outburst as a distraction as he takes a drink as surreptitiously as he can. It doesn’t go unnoticed, though, because Sasha hollers and points.

“Oooh, Martin!” Sasha says. “Spill.”

Martin raises his hands. “Fine, fine. I was a horny teenager who wasn’t old enough to buy a sex toy. It didn’t work out…”

That’s an understatement, because sex ed at his school sucked and he didn’t get the memo that lube would be a good idea. And even forays down there later in life with an appropriate levels of slick and an item more suited to the task didn’t work out well.

“What was it?” Tim asks with a grin.

“Carrot.” Martin says. His blush is deep enough that it’s worth trying to bury his face in his mug. Which is convenient, as it’s about time he took a good long drink.

“Right, uh, never have I ever broken the five second rule.” Sasha says, and all three of her partners drink. She manages to look only mildly disgusted.

“Never have I ever slept outside while drunk.” Jon says.

“That’s lame but…” Tim says, but he drinks.

Martin drinks too, because technically he has, although he was on a camping trip at the time. Still, there was a tent, and he did not end up inside it. And that would not be a choice he’d make sober.

“Never have I ever gone to work without underwear on.” Martin says.

“I’m not wearing underwear right now.” Tim says.

“Does ‘right now’ count as work though?” Martin says.

“Doesn’t matter.” Tim says, and he takes a drink. Sasha gives him a high five before she takes a sip too. “Never have I ever chundered in a taxi.”

Sasha lifts her mug with some perhaps misplaced pride. She’s fucking overjoyed when Jon drinks too.

“Bossman has got drunk enough to puke in the back of a taxi!” She cries. “He has had normal human experiences.”

“I had _food poisoning_!” Jon says.

“I don’t think it counts as food poisoning if you got it from something alcoholic.” Martin teases.

“I ate bad shrimp!” Jon says.

“Never have I ever used viagra.” Sasha says before Jon has the opportunity to attempt to defend himself further.

Tim takes a hearty swig. “For the record, I was only curious. And I saw no noticeable effects, which is apparently normal if you don’t actually need it.”

“It didn’t give you a super boner?” Sasha asks, then she makes a sad face when Tim shakes his head.

“Never have I ever had sex with my boss.” Jon smirks as he asks it, knowing that the three of them have to drink.

It doesn’t actually butt up in a bad way that often, the fact that Jon is actually their boss. HR was thoroughly aware of the pre-existing parts of their relationship when Jon was promoted, and by that point he was sleeping with Tim on the regular, and Sasha on the slightly less regular. And before they all moved to the same department, Sasha and Martin weren’t in a relationship that could be called platonic, although it was far from closed, and Tim and joined both of them in bed. So really the only thread of their polycule that hadn’t been stitched up at that stage was Jon and Martin. So this was inevitable, really.

“Never have I ever told someone they have ‘tidy genitals’.” Martin says, because fuck it, if Jon can pick something that targets the three of them, Martin can pick something that’s targeted on him.

Sasha and Tim snicker as Jon takes a drink. They were both there the first time Jon got Martin naked and when he made that comment. It’s been bantered back and forth on numerous occasions.

“Never have I ever had a crush on a cartoon character.” Tim says.

Martin drains what’s left in his mug, and so does Sasha. Sasha happily spins a little story about how she was obsessed with Mulan as a kid and she’s never worked out if she wanted to be Mulan or just date her.

It is, thankfully, enough of a distraction that no one asks Martin who his crush was. A good thing, because he’s loath to admit to this lot that he once fancied Lola bunny.

Martin’s not the only person with an empty mug, it turns out. Jon is lagging behind a little, but even his mug is noticeably closer to empty than full. They crack open the three remaining beers of the six pack and pour them out.

“Never have I-” Jon begins.

“Oi!” Sasha says. “It’s not your go. Never have I ever attended an all boys or all girls school.”

Jon glares at her as he drinks. They’ve heard enough stories about Jon’s good old school days to know that he went to an all boys (although it was mixed in sixth form). And even if Jon was close-lipped about that, Sasha is exactly the kind of person to dig up that sort of information.

“Never have I ever been stopped and patted down by airport security.” Jon says.

“You know, I’ve only ever flown once.” Martin says before he drinks.

“Martin, pegged as a drug smuggler.” Tim says as he lowers his mug.

“The only thing I was smuggling was my titties.” Martin laments. “Apparently it’s quite common with trans guys, because the scanners pick up binders and packers, but can’t tell what they are. Uh, never have I ever hooked up with more than one person in a single night.”

“Uh, Marto…” Tim says.

“Shit, that’s all of us.” Martin says. And he’s nowhere near buzzed enough to blame the alcohol for his slip-up.

“Eh, we need to get through these drinks.” Sasha says after she takes a drink.

“Never have I ever posted a nude online.” Tim says. “Wait, really?” He adds when no one drinks.

Sasha picks up her phone. “I don’t mind sending nudes to select people, but I don’t post them for the world to see.”

A moment after she puts her phone down, Martin’s chimes. Then so do Tim’s and Jon’s in quick succession. Martin picks up his phone to see what she sent them.

It’s an older photo, because the tattoo on her left arm isn’t there, and she’s had that for around two years. She’s naked in it, but it’s not as explicit as it could be, because there’s a dark-haired head between her thighs. It looks like Tim, but Martin can’t be sure.

Martin leans over and lets his hand trail up her thigh in appreciation.

“Nice.” Tim says.

“Be good and I might let you take some more of me. Now...” She fixes Tim with a deep and intense look. “Never have I-”

“How about I just drink?” Tim says.

“That may be for the best.” Sasha answers.

“Never have I ever been caught having sex at work.” Jon says. “Drink up.”

There are several groans, but Jon is right. He’s caught all of them before, in the various combinations the three of them can make. In numerous locations as well.

“Have none of us ever caught Jon?” Martin asks. He can’t think of a time when Jon wasn’t the person walking in.

“Didn’t I catch the three of you in document storage last week?” Sasha says.

“Hey!” Tim says. “It doesn’t count if you knew it was happening.”

“But I didn’t know it was happening.” Sasha says.

“You were invited to that.” Jon points out. “I sent you a message. It’s not our fault that you didn’t check your phone.”

“Never have I ever picked things that I know will make everyone but me drink.” Martin says.

He stares Jon down until he takes a big gulp. Serves him right. They all need to be getting to the same level of buzzed and Jon can’t keep lagging behind.

“Never have I ever eaten ass.” Tim says. Then he raises his glass in cheers, because they’ve all been there.

“Never have I ever drunk out of a dog bowl.” Sasha says.

“I told you that in confidence, and it wasn’t a _dog_ bowl.” Tim says.

“Drink.” Sasha prompts, and she places her fingers on the bottom of Tim’s mug and encourages it up until there’s nothing left inside.

“Well, that’s me dry.” Tim says.

“I’ve got no beer left either.” Sasha says. “So what’s next?”

“I dunno, summon a ghost?” Tim says. “Read each other scary stories. We’ve got, what, a whole Archive of them?”

“Bit close to my day job, thanks.” Jon replies.

“Don’t you have any halloween traditions?” Martin asks.

“Yes,” Jon replies. “I tape a sign saying ‘no trick-or-treating’ to my door and don’t answer if anyone knocks.”

“Spoilsport.” Sasha says.

“Like you have any better traditions.” Jon says to her.

“I was raised Wiccan, so it was Samhain not halloween.” Sasha says. “But you know, the usual dancing naked round a bonfire and all that.”

“We can’t have a fire in the Archives.” Jon says.

“I was kidding, jeez!” Sasha says. “Wiccans don’t actually do that stuff.”

“If you want to dance around naked or in your underwear, I don’t think any of us would object.” Martin points out, perhaps a little hopefully.

“Tempting as that is, this bra really favours aesthetics over function.” Sasha says.

“I will hold your boobs for you.” Tim says solemnly.

“But then you’d be in the way of me dancing.” Sasha says.

“No, just take them off and give them to me.” Tim says, and maybe he was drinking a little too fast in never have I ever.

“I can’t just _remove_ my breasts!” Sasha says.

“Why not?” Martin asks. “I did. I know a good surgeon for it.”

There’s a moment before Sasha starts laughing. In Martin’s opinion, that’s when she’s the most attractive, particularly when she can’t control the snorting. She thinks that’s unattractive, but it’s very much not. It’s infectious too, and very soon the rest of them are laughing along with her.

“So what next?” Sasha asks once the giggling has died down and she’s got her breath back.

“Strip poker?” Tim suggests.

* * *

“This is not fair.” Tim says.

“You lost the hand, take them off.” Martin says.

“How are you still fully dressed? You’re literally wearing two pieces of clothing. This game was meant to be rigged against you!” Tim says.

It’s true, Martin’s managed to stay fully dressed, although he did get Jon to unzip him a bit when he was feeling a bit too warm. But Sasha’s down to her bra and panties, Jon’s only got his trousers and whatever’s under them, and Tim is wearing nothing but his shorts, tail, and ears.

Said ears he is reaching for now.

“Uh-uh.” Sasha says. “Those aren’t clothing. Take off your shorts, Tim, you’ve lost.”

Tim divests himself of clothing sheepishly, because it’s pretty clear that Sasha is willing to help him along if needed. He makes no move to cover himself though, and his cock is already starting to fill.

“Whatever shall we do with him?” Jon murmurs. He leans over towards Tim, and in response the other man lays down until Jon is almost hovering above him. They’re not quite touching.

“I have some ideas.” Martin says, as he too moves closer, gravitating towards Tim. It looks like they’ve picked who’s going to be the bottom bitch tonight.

“Before you do…” Sasha says, and she stops to rummage in the bag she’s placed by the edge of the mattresses. It’s not her work bag - she wouldn’t dare carry her strap around in that. But it’s not her strap that she pulls out.

“Is that a comment on my stamina?” Tim says flatly in response to the cock ring in Sasha’s palm. There’s a small bottle of lube in her other hand.

“Yes.” Sasha says. “You’re closest, Jon.”

She passes both items off to Jon to be properly applied.

It’s a stretchy ring, silicone, probably. It’s possible for Jon to get it on while Tim has a semi, but it would certainly be much easier if Tim were fully flaccid. Still, Jon manages to get it snug on the base of Tim’s penis.

“Comfortable?” Jon asks.

“No, but that’s beside the point.” Tim replies. “It’s not pinching or anything though.”

“Good,” Jon says, “because it’s not coming off you until all three of us have fucked you.”

Tim makes a slight whimper, but Jon swallows the rest of his noise as he leans down and kisses Tim thoroughly. Tim sinks into it, letting Jon lead, but also pulling him down fully against him.

Martin indulges himself, trailing his hand along the ridge of Jon’s spine. Jon doesn’t flinch at the unexpected touch. His skin is warm under Martin’s fingertips, like there’s a blush that starts at Jon’s cheeks and just goes down and down and down.

There’s a little string of spittle connecting Tim and Jon’s mouths when Jon draws back. It stretches thin and breaks, landing in a little thin line on Tim’s cheek. He doesn’t look wrecked yet, but that little bit of mess is a precursor for what’s about to come.

Jon swipes his thumb across Tim’s cheek - the opposite of the one which has been soiled. “Lovely boy, I think you need to help the rest of us get undressed so that we can fuck you like you need to be.”

Tim blinks once, twice, then he reaches for Jon’s fly.

Jon catches his hands. “Uh-uh, Martin and Sasha first. They still need to put their straps on.”

Tim turns to them. Martin stands, because there’s no way this wretched onesie is coming off him while he’s sat down. Sasha follows suit

With the zipper undone, Tim doesn’t actually have to stand, he just pulls on the fabric of Martin’s cat-costume until all he’s left in is his briefs. And those go down easily enough with a little help from Tim.

“Thank you, Tim.” Martin says. He curls his fingers under the other man’s jaw and lifts Tim’s face.

Tim looks up from where he’s kneeling, his face slack and relaxed. And, well, if Martin’s fingers are this well placed to just slip into Tim’s mouth then he cannot be held accountable for doing it, can he? Tim doesn’t try to suck on Martin’s fingers, but he does let Martin stroke over his tongue a couple of times. Martin has to withdraw his hand before he gets too distracted. It would be far too easy to just haul Tim in and press that lovely mouth between his legs.

Tim turns to Sasha and begins to rise. She puts her hands on his shoulders and pushes him back down.

“I can get my bra.” She says. “You look good down there. Ah- no” She says when Tim’s fingers hook into the waistband of her painties. “I don’t think you need hands for this.”

Tim nuzzles his way in between her thighs. Martin’s not removed that many pairs of underwear with his mouth himself, but he’s still pretty sure you don’t go about it like you’re trying to eat someone out. Not unless they’re wearing edible underwear, at least.

Sasha tangles her fingers into Tim’s hair and encourages him. There’s little in the way of stripping going on, but from the movement of Tim’s throat and jaw, Martin can imagine that Sasha is feeling quite pleasant.

Jon only tolerates this behaviour for a few minutes before he says “That’s quite enough. I told you to strip her, not to make love to her underwear.”

Jon curls his fist into the hair on the back of Tim’s head and pulls him away. It’s a large enough chunk of hair for Jon to have a solid handhold on Tim’s head, and he uses it to position Tim in the manner he wants him.

Removing underwear with your teeth is not nearly as quick as using your hands, but once Tim’s got them a little way down Sasha’s thighs, she gives a bit of a shimmy and they fall to the floor. She’s used the extra time it’s taken to alleviate herself of her bra, which has been flung in the general direction of her bag.

“Are we dismissed to strap it up?” Sasha asks Jon.

On the one hand, there hasn’t been any clear discussion to put Jon in control of this scene. But on the other hand, it’s clear that he wants to be the one in control and it doesn’t look like any of them are complaining. And, well, Martin would crawl over to Jon on his hands and knees if that were what Jon demanded of him.

“You are.” Jon says. He turns back to Tim. “I’m still dressed over here.”

“Am I allowed to use my hands on you?” Tim asks with an eyebrow waggle.

“Behave.” Jon tells him.

Sasha grabs the lube before she steps off to the side to get her strap-on out. Martin’s is not so close at hand. He puts a hand on her wrist just before she can apply any lube to her hand (and she’ll probably need it because her strap mounts two toys, and the one set to go into her isn’t exactly small).

“I’ll be right back.” Martin promises, and he drops a quick kiss to her lips.

It doesn’t take long for Martin to put on his equipment. The harness goes on easily, and the only dildo he brought with him to the Archives is already clean and attached. He takes a moment to slip his bullet vibe back into place - it’s been out to charge, so there’s no chance it will be running dry anytime soon.

Martin heads back over to find that Jon has got Tim on his elbows and knees. He’s toying with Tim, teasing the plug he’s wearing slowly out of his hole before pushing it back in. Sasha sits cradling Tim’s head, his mouth suckling the end of her cock.

“Nice of you to join us.” Jon says.

“Don’t be an ass.” Sasha says to Jon, but it’s a little hypocritical because as Tim lifts his head to say something, Sasha just pushes him back down onto her cock.

“Hello to you too.” Martin says, and he leans down to kiss Jon

It’s easy to lose himself in it. Jon’s body is all warm skin-on-skin when Martin curls in close and his hair is like cool silk when Martin slides his fingers into it. Jon makes a little huff into his mouth as Martin rubs over his nipples, but he doesn’t stay for long. And Jon’s mouth is warm and inviting enough that his kisses are intoxicating.

Martin swallows the shudder of breath Jon makes when Martin wraps his hand around his cock. He’s most of the way through stroking Jon to full mast when Tim begins to whine, Jon too distracted to pay him the attention he so desperately wants.

“Sorry, love.” Martin says when he has a moment to break apart from Jon. He takes a loose handful of Tim’s tail and pulls on it. Not hard enough to yank it out, but enough that Tim can feel the pressure, and Tim whines again in response. “Have you been good for Jon?”

“He’s being a bloody tease.” Tim says.

Martin pouts dramatically. “I suppose we better fix that.” He says.

Martin plans to make good on his words, but, well, it’s just so tempting isn’t it. He gets the toy halfway out of Tim, sees his rim stretch around its girth. It just wouldn’t be fair to Martin to resist the urge to push it back in. He gives it a little bit of a twist, just because he can, then eases it back in and out of Tim a couple more times.

“You’re as bad as he is.” Tim says.

“Is he?” Jon asks. He’s moved a little round to the side to stroke up and down the length of Tim’s spine. Martin doesn’t mind - it means there’s more room for him to work Tim over.

“And what is it you want?” Sasha asks. She’s released Tim’s mouth for the time being, but she’s commandeered one of his hands, which has snuck under the straps of her harness to cause a little mischief. From the angle of it, it looks like he might be rubbing at her clit.

“I want one of you to fuck me.” Tim says.

“Mmm.” Martin says. He strokes his index finger down the length of Tim’s cock, which hangs heavy and leaking. Tim swears in response. “How big is this toy?” He asks, giving the tail a tug.

“It’s just a plug.” Tim says.

“So you’ll need more stretching?” Martin asks. Jon is pressing a bottle of lube into his hand before the words are even out of Martin’s mouth.

Martin applies some lube to his fingers with a grateful smile towards Jon. He lets the slick fluid warm to a temperature that isn’t going to make Tim jump.

“Not much, I - oh fuck.” Tim breaks off as Martin finally removes the toy and replaces it with his fingers.

The plug is a pretty small thing. Martin spreads his fingers to check how pliant Tim has become. Not enough to take him. Not yet.

Martin works on stretching Tim out perhaps a little quicker than he should, but they’re both pretty desperate to get down to business, so that can probably be excused. Tim shudders through it, but that’s probably got more to do with how Jon is leisurely pulling him off than what Martin is doing.

“Enough, Martin.” Tim says. “I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?” Martin asks. The cock he’s wearing is the biggest of the three on offer for Tim, so he needs to be prepared.

“Yes!” Tim cries. “Goddamn it, _please_.” Tim cocks his hips a little to give Martin even more of a hint.

It’s easy enough to relent. Martin guides the head of the dildo into Tim - there’s a slight bit of resistance as he pushes the head in, then it sinks in easily. Tim moans openly, which makes Sasha laugh lightly. She lays Tim’s head in her lap and stokes over his hair.

Martin takes Tim by the hips and starts a moderate pace. Tim rocks with each thrust and Jon has to shimmy back to give Tim the room to move. Tim’s probably sad to lose the hand on his cock, but he is in for a marathon rather than a sprint. And there’s no way he’s going to come anytime soon with that cock ring on.

Displaced, Jon moves to sit up by Sasha. She smiles as she sees him coming her way, and when Jon’s close enough she pulls him in for a kiss. It’s a nice view, Martin finds, watching them kiss and explore each other’s bodies. Sasha keeps breaking the kiss to gasp - first because Jon’s teasingly stroking her nipples, then because Tim wraps a hand around the dildo jutting from her hips and grinds it down in the approximate location of her clit.

Slowly, Sasha sags, sliding down Jon’s body as she loses herself. Martin doesn’t see the whole process - Tim’s shoulders are right there and it’s too tempting not to lean forward and bite them. Especially with how deep that makes him drive into Tim and the moans both of them make when the dildo he’s wearing grinds his little bullet vibe into his cock.

“Where are you going?” Jon asks Sasha with faint amusement as she slides further and further down his body.

“Down here.” She replies, her lips ghosting the head of his cock before she takes him into her mouth.

It’s a pretty sight, and Martin and Jon have joint sighs as they enjoy it. Martin might enjoy it a little too much, though, because with a few more short jabs of his hips, he moans and comes. His eyelids flutter closed, but Martin still knows that his grip on Tim’s hips is white-knuckled. The other man might have bruises there come tomorrow.

“All good?” Tim asks as Martin slips out of him.

“You were very good.” Martin says, pressing a kiss somewhere between Tim’s shoulder blades.

Actually, now that he focuses on it, the buzzing of the vibe against his cock is a little much. Luckily though, strap-on are much easier to remove quickly than put on, especially if you’re not precious about keeping the straps untangled. It’s light work to strip the contraption off.

Martin shoves a couple of fingers into Tim, so he won’t feel too empty. They’ve plenty to fill him up with though.

“Who’s next?” Martin asks.

Sasha shifts and sits up. “I’m afraid you might have to settle for Tim’s mouth for a bit, love.” She tells Jon.

“Settle!” Tim says. “I can suck Jon’s cock just-” Martin finds Tim’s prostate and rubs down on it with the pads of his fingers and Tim’s complaint draws off into a moan.

Jon takes Tim by the chin and guides him to where he’s hard and waiting, still slick and shiny with Sasha’s saliva. “Don’t suck me off too well, or I won’t be able to fuck you after, and you don’t want that, do you?”

Tim makes an offended noise, but when he takes Jon into his mouth it’s obvious he isn’t using any of the ‘I’m going to make you come as quick as I can’ techniques he usually employs.

“I suppose that’s one way to keep him quiet.” Sasha says as she crawls down towards where Tim wants her to be.

Martin has a kiss and a palmful of lube waiting for her. He lets her lick into his mouth as he snakes a hand down to slick up her toy - it’s actually a bit of an awkward fumble because his dominant hand is still thoroughly engaged in fingering Tim.

“I’m ready when you are.” Tim says, and he spreads his thighs ever so slightly more.

“Actually, would you mind flipping over?” Sasha asks.

“Am I not allowed to have nice things?” Jon grumbles, because if Tim ends up on his back it’s going to be a lot more difficult to have his cock sucked.

“I’m sure you can manage.” Martin says. “I’ll come up there and suck your cock if not.”

But when Tim flips over, it’s not Jon’s cock that ends up in Martin’s mouth. Tim ends up a little on his side, and with a twist of his neck he can easily reach to tease at the head of Jon’s dick. 

Meanwhile, Martin busies his own mouth leaving a little path of kisses down Tim’s stomach until he reaches the place where Tim’s cock rests hard and flushed on it. Then he sets to work trying to extract Tim’s soul out through it.

The noises that filter out through Tim’s mouth, even full of Jon’s cock, are exquisite. Martin has one hand resting on Tim’s lower abdomen and he can feel the muscles there twitch as Tim tries to cope with the barrage of sensations he’s being assailed with.

If this doesn’t make him come, then it’s pretty much a given that Tim’s not going to be able to with the cock ring on.

Tim manages only a few minutes before he’s tugging Martin’s head up with tears in his eyes. Martin hums inquisitively and mouths gently at the head of Tim’s penis.

Tim whimpers - outright whimpers. “Martin! Martin, stop, please.” He says.

“Are you okay?” Martin asks as he pulls away. Sasha slows, then stops her thrusts and even   
Jon is looking concerned.

“It’s too much.” Tim says. “If I didn’t have this damned ring on…”

“I can take it off you.” Sasha offers.

Tim shakes his head. “I’m going to come so hard when you do, but it’s not going to be until all of you have fucked me. So get back to it!”

Sasha laughs, but she complies.

With, well, nowhere better to put his mouth, Martin shuffles up towards Jon. And when Jon does reel him in for a kiss, he makes no complaints over the taste of Martin’s mouth. He can feel Jon smile against his lips when Martin tangles his hands into Jon’s hairm dirty fingers be damned - someone here probably has some shampoo. Someone has already had the good graces to remove the hair tie from it, but they all know how weak Martin is for the feeling of Jon’s (or Sasha’s) hair running through his fingers.

“Do you want me to…” Jon makes a vague implication with the way his hands slide up Martin’s inner thighs.

It tingles in a very good way. It makes Martin’s insides squirm and he’s almost certain he can feel the slick drip out of him.

“Stay on my thighs?” Martin suggests. “Or, y’know, between. Just don’t touch my cock directly.”

Jon nods, and he keeps petting Martin while his mouth makes an utter mess of Martin’s neck and shoulders. It’s pleasant. Not in a ‘this is going to make me come quick and hard’ way, but a gentle simmer, keeping him turned on while his body figures out if it’s up for another orgasm.

Jon shifts the angle Martin is sitting at just slightly, and when he looks up to work out why, he meets Sasha’s gaze. For a second or so, at least, because she drinks in the sight of Martin’s body, his legs spread to reveal what’s between to her.

Martin follows the path of a bead of sweat down Sasha’s brow. Her cheeks are flushed and she snaps her hips in a precise little rhythm with a little grind each time she pushes into Tim. It’s clear from the expression on her face that she’s riding on pleasure, poised on the brink and ready to tumble over it at any opportunity.

Then Jon’s finger’s come down and into Martin’s slit. They carefully avoid Martin’s cock, but they gently spread Martin’s lips for Sasha to see him flushed and aching. It’s enough to make Martin loll his head back and moan. He can feel his cunt clench empty, and then Sasha is uttering a similar moan as she herself comes.

Sasha flops back as best she can while still remaining on the mattresses. She raises her fist into the air and pumps it.

“Jon…” It’s all Tim says, but the plea is clear in his tone.

“Well, come here then.” Jon says.

“Boss…” Tim says.

“It doesn’t look like Sasha’s going to be moving anytime soon.” Jon says.

“Too right!” Sasha says, and she arcs off into giggles.

There’s a general reshifting as Tim turns around with only minimal grumbling. Jon puts him back on his hands and knees so that he can take Tim from behind. The movement ends up reseating Martin too, until he’s back next to Sasha.

“How are you doing?” He asks her, settling down next to her.

“Good, good.” She says, and with that she rolls her body until she’s pressed up against him.

“Still horny?” Martin asks.

“Very.” Sasha replies. “If any of us had a condom I’d hop onto your strap.”

“That’s - _ah_ , God Jon - that’s been in my arse, Sasha.” Tim says.

“Hence the condom.” Sasha says.

“I’ll get you off.” Martin says.

“Thanks babe.” She says. Her hips cock up and Martin knows she’s trying to look inviting, but the result is just her thrusting her dildo into the air.

Martin grabs the discarded tangle of his strap on. Sasha eye’s it warily until it’s clear that Martin is just removing the bullet vibrator instead of putting the whole contraption back on. It’s still and silent, but that’s only because he turned it off when he took the thing off. Next, Martin sets to work undoing as many of the clasps to Sasha’s strap on as he needs to to get at her clit.

In the end he doesn’t remove it entirely, because there’s still a toy sunk at least a couple of inches into her and he suspects Sasha’s rather enjoying that.

Martin twists the end of the bullet vibe and it buzzes to life. It’s a little awkward to hold it in his non-dominant hand, but his other one is dirty, so he can’t risk it.

Sasha makes this little mewling noise as Martin presses the vibrator to her clit. Her hips buck up into it free from any conscious control. With his free hand, Martin takes a fistfull of the straps pooled between her thighs. He gets a good enough grip to jiggle the toy inside her, although it probably can’t be called actual thrusting.

Martin drinks in the sounds she makes - the whimpers and aborted moans. They’re easy to hear, even over the rhythmic slap-slap-slap of Jon’s hips, or the noises booths Jon and Tim are making.

It’s a bit of a toss up to see who’s going to hold up longest - Sasha or Jon. One the one hand, Jon isn’t exactly known for his stamina. But on the other, Sasha tends to come quick and easy once she’s already worked up for it, which she most certainly is.

In the end, it’s Sasha who comes first, although there’s less than a minute in it. Jon spills just after her legs have stopped shaking and she sighs and sags into a boneless thing. Jon pulls out of Tim, although he keeps himself pressed up against Tim’s back.

“Okay?” Jon mumbles into Tim’s shoulder.

“If I put my strap on back on, I could fuck you again.” Martin says. When he presses his legs together, the heat is still there. Martin has another orgasm in him yet.

“Fun as that sounds, there is a limit on how much of a pounding my arsehole can take.” Tim says. “And I think I’ve reached it.”

Sasha flails a hand in Tim’s general direction. “Can I ride you before I take the cock ring off?” She asks.

“Jesus, Sash.” Tim says.

“Pretty please?” She asks. 

“You can hold on just a while longer, can’t you?” Jon says.

“Guys…”

“You’ve been so good to us.” Martin asks. “You want to make her feel good, yeah?”

Tim huffs, but he rolls onto his back. “You’re going to have to do all the work.” He tells Sasha.

“When don’t I?” She asks as she climbs aboard.

Sasha grips Tim’s penis in one hand and sinks down onto it. She doesn’t really have the strength in her thighs to bob herself up and down, so she mostly sits and grinds the dick within her into what must be a sweet spot. She’s not touching her clit though, so it’s clear she intends to take her time.

“Anyone inclined to help me get off in the meantime?” Martin asks.

“Sorry, love.” Jon says. He nuzzles his way between Martin’s thighs with clear intent. “Is this okay?”

Martin doesn’t say anything, just spreads his legs open wider. Jon takes that as a ‘yes.’ Jon kisses his way up Martin’s inner thighs, alternating from one leg to the other. When there’s no more leg to put his mouth on, two of Jon’s fingers spread Martin’s lips and he leans in to lave his tongue against Martin’s cunt.

It’s not enough to make Martin moan, but it does make his thighs tremble. He’s open and wet enough for Jon to press that sinful tongue into him, and this time Martin can’t control the little meep that slips out of his mouth. His hips buck up into the velvet softness of Jon’s lips and tongue of their own accord.

Jon stays there, licking his way into Martin even as Martin shakes and trembles. He can enjoy a good tongue-fucking, assuming that’s the only thing working its way into his cunt. It isn’t enough, though. It isn’t what he needs.

“Jon.” Martin says. 

Jon hums in response, and the vibrations are very lovely. It would be nice if one day they did this while someone sucked or fucked Jon so that Martin could experience the vibrations caused by a whole litany of moans.

“Jon, please. Touch me.” Martin says. 

Martin’s hands clasp thick handfuls of Jon’s hair and he’s torn between trying to pull the other man up to his cock, or just trying push him in deeper. Jon can hardly complain if his cause of death ends up being ‘suffocated by cunt’ now can he?

Jon draws back, just far enough that the slight breeze of his breath makes every wet place between Martin’s legs feel cool. It’s frustrating, because there’s a blood-hot _need_ in him to be touched right now, and Jon’s _right there_. But when he tries to tug Jon’s head back down, Jon’s neck stays firm.

“I am touching you.” Jon says like the pernickety bastard he is.

“Just give him what he wants, bossman.” Tim’s managed to find the energy to sit up, cradling Sasha in his lap. The position must be good for her, because she’s got her arms thrown over Tim’s shoulders and she’s moaning into Tim’s neck.

“How’s giving people what they want going for you?” Jon asks.

“Oh, just _swimmingly_.” Tim says.

“I thought you didn’t want me to touch your cock directly.” Jon says to Martin.

“Jon, if you don’t put your mouth back on- oh. Oh God, _Jon_ I-”

Martin doesn’t come right then and there, but he knows from the first swipe of Jon’s tongue that this is going to be a short thing. Jon holds Martin’s cock between his lips with just enough pressure to be sweet, but what really destroys Martin is the steady pattern of licks Jon makes over the tip of it.

Martin builds to his peak swiftly. He staves off his orgasms for as long as brutally possible until it’s impossible to stop himself crashing under the gentle attention of Jon’s tongue. It is abruptly too much, and Martin has to push Jon’s head away.

“Good?” Jon asks with a smirk, despite the fact he already knows the answer.

“I don’t think I can move.” Martin answers.

He does manage enough movement to turn his head and watch as Jon slips a hand between Tim and Sasha’s body. She must have been pretty close to the edge, because whatever Jon is doing down there causes her to come with almost immediate effect.

Tim winces through it. In the past, Martin’s felt the way Sasha’s cunt clenches around his fingers when she has an orgasm, and he can’t imagine what that must feel like going off around your cock when you’re unable to come.

Sasha slides off him and crumbles into a little heap. Martin scoots a little way closer so that she can fit neatly in his arms.

“Sasha.” Tim says. “Sasha, please!”

His cock is still standing, proud and red. He could take the ring off himself, but he’s still standing on that promise that everyone else has to be satisfied first.

“Jon, can you…?” Sasha says, waving a hand in the general direction of Tim’s crotch.

Jon gets his fingertips under the ring and stretches it out so that he can remove it. The effects are immediate. As soon as the pressure around the base of Tim’s penis is released, he starts to come, shooting white, sticky fluid onto his stomach and chest. It’s quite the picture, his come-covered abdomen, the cat ears still somehow on his head, and the smeared remains of his eyeliner whiskers and nose.

Martin’s own whiskers and nose are likely in a similar state, and there’s no telling what Sasha’s ‘beard’ would look like if she hadn’t removed it earlier.

They lay there for a few minutes, all in varying degrees of winded, until Jon gets up and comes back with a selection of wet paper towels for people to clean themselves up with. The Archives don’t have much to offer in the way of washcloths, but everyone has body parts covered to varying degrees in drying fluids from their combined exploits

“What time is it?” Martin asks, as he tosses dirtied and damp paper towels to one side.

None of them are wearing watches, but Sasha finds her phone, discarded by the end of one of the air mattresses. 

“Give it fifteen, then we can order pizza.” She says.

“Martin?” Jon says.

“Mmm?” Martin replies.

“I expect all the halloween decorations to be down by nine tomorrow morning.”

Jon laughs at the two-finger salute Martin gives him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, Ghost spent this entire chapter curled up on Martin's desk chair, throughly worn out after all the fuss she received.
> 
> Have a great halloween all!

**Author's Note:**

> Note for non-Brits: bonfire night (as mentioned in the first chapter) is celebrated on November 5th each year. It hasn't really been exported outside of the UK, partially due to its proximity to halloween, and partially as it has very anti-Catholic roots. Bonfire night is in honour of a failed plot by UK catholics to blow up the house of Lords and assassinate King James I on November 5th 1605, the opening of parliament. At that time, you could lease the undercroft(basement) of the house of Lords - the conspirators did so and stored 36 barrels of gunpowder under the house of Lords. Authorities were tipped off when an anonymous letter was sent to a member of parliament who was either a catholic, or sympathetic to the catholics, warning him not to attend parliament that day.
> 
> Bonfire night is celebrated with fireworks and a bonfire, on top of which are often burnt 'Guys', which are home-made human-sized figures (normally with a paper mache head) stuffed with newspaper/old clothes/rags. The traditional 'Guy' is Guy Fawkes, the conspirator who was caught red handed (although historically effigies of the Pope were burnt), but unpopular celebrities are also quite popular as Guys. Seasonal treats such as mulled wine and toffee apples may also be served.


End file.
